After Just Now

Chiang Mai - Chiang Rai

2012-02-14T02:23:00.006Z

Dear Reader,
[SKIP TO PHOTOS HERE IF YOU WANT : http://gallery.me.com/ericsutherland/100191]
Train travel is fantastic, an old past time that (at least on the West coast of USA) has sadly disappeared. What a noble way to travel, especially for 12 hours, being rocked to sleep to a distinctive rhythm and getting to socialize with so many elements of society. In my sleeper car there was a Dutch woman and two contemporary Thai artists who were opening an exhibition in Bangkok. Such interesting work they made, very figurative and spiritual. I joined them in the dining car later on. The dining car was the best; an open air, green and red lit party car with American rock classics cranked to 11. Crack a couple beers with these dudes and you're in business. Good fun.
Waking up to the Thai countryside was amazingly beautiful; the sun bathing a cold, unwilling landscape in heat, and soon that crisp mist that settled in the night turns into hot soon enough. Actually had to wear a thermal, can you believe it.
Chiang Mai; second biggest city in Thailand. Seems like when you arrive at a new place for the first time you have to get ripped off at least once with a tuk-tuk or taxi: "I don't care what it costs, just get me there!!" and really, you're only paying a few dollars anyway. The taxis are a little different then a straight up taxi as in Bangkok: a pickup truck with a hard top and two benches is a taxi. Couple that with passengers going in a similar direction, it trundles along and picks up people going in a similar direction. Rejection becomes part of the game when dealing with this type of transport.
The hostel I booked turns out to be more of an "experience" then a typical hostel... After taking absolutely forever to find the place (turns out that it's on the outside of town) I arrive to find Vee: a hospitable, hilariously gay artist, who has turned a drab open room with a plastic floor into the vague image of a hostel. (As you will see in the pictures) It is his take on Chiang Mai that is the unique experience you will have there, that and the connections you make with other travelers. He created the space not only to be a working hostel but a working art space; paper mache tree growing off a column the room, art supplies strewn about all over, entire walls dedicated to being written on, sculptures, stickers, etc etc. Each night he gets a group of willing victims together and takes people to cheap, tasty, local food stalls. And being Thai, he knows most everyone and gets local rates on everything. Fa'lang (foreigner) rates are usually 80% more in price, even though that works out to only 2-3 dollars. I thought at first it was a bit weird, but then realized the brilliance in his business model; all the reviews on the various hostel websites and the comments left behind, scrawled on the walls, were glowing.
The first day there I rented a moto (scooter) for about 200 baht + gas ($6). I quickly leaned this is THE way to see a city quickly and cheaply; it's fantastically flexible and you don't end up as sweaty as all the other walking chumps! What a deal. I ran into Sally, a Brit who I had spent time with at the SkyBar and shared the same hostel with in Bangkok at the same hostel. Apparently we had the same idea of looking at the highest rated hostels and picking from that list of 90% and above. It was her birthday that day, and she was well hung over so I offered to take her to a waterfall and national park that Vee had mentioned. If you want to escape the heat of the day, simply pull the throttle back more, and the wind blows it all away! The drive up the waterfall was lovely, winding roads through Thailand jungle, banana leaves straining out high across the road and bamboo shoots perched precariously in cliff sides, clinging into the soil and rock. We stopped at a stream where a huge group of children had gathered on some school outing and were being taught traditional Thai music, or theater or story telling with music involved. High above the city, next to a babbling stream where blue butterflies danced around in circles, I started to really understand why people like Chiang Mai so much. We pressed on and found our way to a series of waterfalls in the jungle that were pleasant enough, but nothing compared to the massive giants of Iceland.
The food here is so fantastic; it's great growing up with things like thai iced tea, phud see lard, phud see yew, phud thai, tom kah gai, tom yum, etc etc and then being here, and finally seeing the place where all these dishes came from, it's a real pleasure.
The next day, I booked myself an experience with elephants. I was very clear that I did not want to see elephants abused, doing shows or circus like stuff, I didn't want to ride via the chair they strap to elephants, etc. Basically I wanted the more pure elephant forward experience possible. One ranch in particular stood out above the rest for all those requirements. I'd say the name of it now, but all I remember is it started with a B. They acquired elephants from various backgrounds, usually logging work on the Burmese boarder, and put them in a place where they can eat, exercise and play in the water and that's it. This was a fascinating experience because it was very honest and very non romanticized. It costs quite a lot to house an elephant. They eat 300kg of food a day and drink upwards of 60 gallons of water a day. Not only that, they can be very temperamental, go figure. One elephant would not stop a bobbing and weaving type movement... a testament to the memory of an elephant; she had been taught to dance in a circus, and since then, could not unlearn this movement. The manhouts (Thai elephant handlers) said she most likely had a severe mental illness because of this type of training. It was really sad to see. One girl from the hostel had gone to this elephant place and had been thrown to the ground and hence, had to be taken to the hospital and patched up. I think she had been messing with the elephants when no one was watching, so she might have deserved it. They had to chain some of the elephants because of their differing personalities, they would sometimes attack each other, try and fight, escape and terrorize the countryside, cause damage, get killed from hunters or locals, etc... turns out it's a very complex and multifaceted subject; elephant rescue. All for these amazing creatures, I can't tell you how amazing their trunks are; dexterous and nimble, able to grasp as well as a human hand. Their skin is thick and tough, 3 inches thick and full of coarse, wiry hairs. I realized humans have a way of unjustly anthropomorphizing animals: dolphins, dogs, elephants.... Notice how they "smile"? Smiling is really a unique primate behavior and we think these creatures are always happy, always smiling at us. Elephants "cry" when in actuality their tear ducts are cleaning out their eyes. The memory of an elephant, etc etc... it's all bullshit, really. Why we like to place our characteristics on these animals is strange to me. Then again, who am I to judge.
We got to lean the basic commands of a manhout, down, forward, stop, turn; all accompanied with a nudge of the elephants ears. Turns out ALSO, that there are approx. 20,000 domesticated elephants in Thailand alone... and only 3,000 wild elephants. Domesticated as in, they don't know how to take care of themselves in the wild, hence all the verbal commands from their human companions, the manhouts. It's like a dog, maybe they'd survive in the wild for a little while but in the long run, it's not a sustainable solution to let the free. Our guide for the day spoke about the most temperamental of animals as having "high personality". What a humble way to say it, I thought. Next time I encounter a total asshole I'm just going to say they have high personality. At the end of the day we got to wash the elephants, and that surely was the highlight of their day, wallowing around in the cool water, blowing gallons of in all over them and everyone, really such a pleasure being with such amazing creatures. "Elephant is still elephant. Animal is still animal."
After that and the usual local dinner routine (again, AMAZING food for so damn cheap) the hostel people and I cycled around with Vee into the wee hours and eventually found an open piano in a gallery/bar space. With a few drinks in me and a VERY stiff actioned (weak hands?) piano, I attempted to serenade those around me with the usual crowd pleasers, to which most seemed pleased. Except me, I thought I played terribly. Was not used to such resistant action in a piano. I was then approached by a local promoter who gushed at my terrible renditions and said she wanted to fly me out to Chiang Mai to do a concert. This was all too unexpected and I don't remember what I said although I still have her email I think. Or it just went through the wash, now that I think of it. Will sort it out later. This was great though, some drunk off his ass, wasted to the end, Brit/Aussie/American/Canadian? dude asked if he could recite a poem after I played, and, not having anything to do with anything around the whole join said, "okay...", he began to go on a high volume, self indulgent improv rant about who the hell knows what. I hid my head and laughed and I think everyone else did as well. Maybe he sensed that because after about 4 minutes he stopped very abruptly. Then him and the remaining whitey bar patrons began doing accents of various nationalities. I started to wonder if Chiang Mai was where failed actors went to die, like the Florida of ex-pats...
Day three , Chiang Mai was spent exploring the city via moto and I do remember towards the end seeing a muay Thai match, traditional Thai boxing, which was great fun but not nearly as bloody and ambulance-ridden as I'd hoped. They really lay into each other, no holds barred, with each knee, elbow, high kick, etc, you can hear the the force of the impacts on the others body.
The days seem to blend together, next day I remember trying to get my passport back from the moto place but they were closed, so I had the moto for another day and puttered around again, checking things out, got some cheapy shirts and sunglasses (a life saver when navigating rush hour traffic and soot) but that evening was great; bar hopping with Vee and the gang and generally getting goofy with everything. Fire dancers, fa'lang, Chang beer, DJ's, that university town of Chiang Mai knows how to have a good time.
Next day I caught a bus to Chiang Rai, a slightly smaller town. The bus journey was beautiful, actually, all of the Thialand countryside is beautiful; jungle, rice paddies, mountainous hilly regions, farm steppes, river banks... all fantastic.
Chiang Rai was a lovely, livable, fairly unpolluted place that I really grew to like. Stayed at Chez Nous, a French/Thai run guest house with all sorts of kitch in the rooms but it was really quite nice. Spent the first day on another moto (a semi-automatic this time...! exciting.) and went to the BLACK TEMPLE. Or the temple of doom, as I liked to call it. The Black Temple is in reaction, or contrast to the White Temple; a Chiang Rai disney land full of tousists day and night. It looked like a nice place, and I intended to see it. More on that later. The Black Temple is as if Thailand comissioned Lars von Trier to design and build a temple. Sadly I'm blanking on the artists name who built it, but what he came up with is truly amazing; black wood, animals skins everywhere, bone sculptures, and in the main temple one massive long table, with bone chairs at each end and dried snake skins extending the length of the table. It's as if vikings and Tim Burton went crazy and were funded by Disney.
I actually really liked it though! So dark and weird. Good to see those things sometimes just to put the light in stark contrast.
I then took moto to see the white temple, which is supposed to be the easy one to find (the black temple is supposedly impossible, hence the lack of solo tourists there. I'm pretty great with getting around though ;) but then I realized, I'm completely far away from Chiang Rai, so I headed back. Instead, you can amuse yourself with the pictures I WOULD have taken had I seen the white temple by viewing these stock photos of it:
http://www.google.co.th/search?q=white+temple+thailand&hl=th&rlz=1C1CFCH_enTH438TH440&prmd=imvns&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ei=BYU6T_OLG8rtrQf6_9msCA&ved=0CCgQsAQ&biw=1190&bih=714
It was time for some not touristing. Spent the evening with some charming French sisters who were so funny and fun, we played darts and talked shit about everything. By the end of the night we ended up at a Thai bar with some really lovely Thai, Japanese, and French people. And a couple Swedes. Good end to Chiang Rai.
Today, was bussing it on over to Chiang Khong, the boarder town to Laos. The ride was smashed between a grumpy monk and a halitosis ridden canadian, who I didn't speak to for fear he would open his mouth and infect me with who knows what mouth icky. We passed burnt rice paddies, winding hills, dried up corn fields, tiny places that could hardly be called villages and lush jungles. Finally ended after a bumpy time in Chiang Khong, perched on the banks of the famous Mekong River. It is truly stunning, the Mekong; massive and wide, it is the life blood of inner Indochina and the Hmong people. After prowling around for sometime, trying to find this guest house that was recommended to me by the proprietor of Chez Nous, and realizing it probably doesn't exist in my plane of reality, and needing to shit my guts out for some reason, I picked a sterile yet clean hotel-ish thing in the center of town. A gaggle of Irish girls flank my room, and hanging with them has been hilarious, as hanging with Irish always is; they got the craic.
There is a slow boat from CHiang Khong to Luang Prabang, a well known city in Laos. It takes two days and apparently I can get my Laotian visa and boat ticket on arrival in Laos. LPDR (Laotian peoples democratic republic), or better known; Laos Please Don't Rush. This is known to the most languid country in southeast asia, where reservations count for naught and simply showing up is reservation enough. Evening time over the river is so amazingly lovely... from about 4pm-6pm, is my favorite time of day in Southeast Asia so far; the honey colored light casts long shadows into the distance, crickets start to buzz, birds start their evening song, the temperature starts to fall and the sun grows in color and size. Somehow everything starts to smell more vivid at this time of day too, I don't know if it's just me or if it really happens like that. Peach, orange, burnt umber, ocher yellows all mix together and create the most serene of moments, heralding the end of business and oppressive heat, and fortelling of evening frivolities and possibilities. Markets start to open up, food stalls start wafting their wares and eats onto the streets, tempting churning stomachs like mine. I know I'll miss the cheap street so much when I leave SEA.
After some Irishing with the Irish constituents and some stocking up on river boat supplies with a Canadian Muay Thai girl, I'm now ready experience the next journey; Laos. Terrible fact, the amount of American ordinance dropped on Laos totals an American bomber dropping a full payload on Laotian soil every 8 minutes for 9 years straight. Sadly. approx. 78 millions bombs did not explode and remain primed in the raped and altered countryside.
See you in Laung Prabang,
-E
PS Since I'm only on PC's here, the photos are going from most recent to least recent, and in order they damn want. Thumbnails don't load in the edit windows, everything is named retardedly, so they are not in chronological order with the writing from the blog. Sorry. There are no Macs in this part of the world, otherwise everything would flow much better. You'll just have to piece together this journey with the text and the pictures the best you can ;)

Some Photos

2012-02-07T10:44:00.001Z

Reader!

Photos. Click. Be jealouz.

Photos start from most recent to least recent.

http://gallery.me.com/ericsutherland/100191

-E

The similarities to Reykjavik and Bangkok

2012-02-07T09:11:00.002Z

They both have two K's.

Dear Reader,

When I left off, I seem to remember something about saying I was going to walk around snapping pictures of Wats and taking water taxis. That day brought me to the grand palace, and under the scorching tropical sun, hundreds of tourists had descended upon the place. It is an amazing temple, glittering with gold, gems and tiny mirrors. I sat in on what appeared to be a service, a monk clad in the typical flowing orange cloth chanting away, and every Thai chanting in unison with him. It was pleasant, minimalist melody; three tones moving between each other, (C, D, F) made it sound like simple blues. Then, unexpectedly to me, the trio of pitches would shift up one half step (C#, D#, F#) and after being stuck in one "key" for so long, the shift was quite a jolt.

After wandering aimlessly a bit more, I came across Wat Po; home of the famous reclining Buddha. It really is a Buddha in repose; a massive golden figure, at least 100 feet long and at least one story high.

More street market by the river, more mangostine and romboton, and one spicyass-melt-you-face-off soup later (yum yum) the heat of the day was getting to me, and being clad in long sleeves, long pants and closed toe shoes, it was cold shower time. But of course, I only ended up getting myself more lost off my ass then before, BUT this time, with a much better sense of where generally I should go. Monuments and parks later, I finally came across my home stretch. Nothing feels better then a cold shower after a day of walking in 90+ heat and high humidity.

That being said, the nighttime temperature after a 90+ day is simply fantastic. Later on, a group of hostel-ites (Two britlanders, one Argentinian, a Dutchite and one americano) pile into a tuk-tuk and head for the world famous SkyBar in downtown Bangkok. Tuk-tuks are both great and terrible; their two-stroke engines (banned in most western countries) are throaty and noisy (hence the sound tuk-tuk) and an assault on air quality/environment. But like most enjoyable things in life that will end up killing you given enough time, they're really fun to ride in. This particular rooftop bar has a strict dress code of long pants, close-toe shoes (for men) and looking generally not like a messy tourist of Koh San Rd. And that being said, a couple of people in our group had no shoes that fit this bill. Thus began the odyssey to find the shoe that fits within the given requirements. Whenever you don't want something, it's there. Whenever you do want something, it isn't. There must be a scientific axiom describing this phenomenon.

SkyBar, is simply put, amazing. Luxurious, lavish, classy, tasteful... with good cocktails to boot. Perched on the 64th floor, the elevator doors opened and you are greeted by a bowing lady in a flowing dress, hands clasped together in traditional "Sawadee" greeting. You have your choice; terrace, lounging area with attentive, polite waitresses, or the standing only bar that litterally juts out into the sky and the only thing that separates you from certain death is a plexiglass/metal railing that spands the diameter of the bar. The bar that changes colors very slowly. Pictures will do better justice but currently I have no way to upload.

It is my philosophy that when ordering cocktails, (unless you know the bartenders drinking making capabilities or the bar is known specifically for craft cocktails) one should always order drinks that are all liquor. No water, juice or mixer to cut the drink. A good choice for this is the classic cocktail, the Negroni. A negroni I would make follows:

1 part gin
1 part dry vermouth (dolin works, carpano antique can also be used)
1 part campari

Add the campari first (it's thickest), the gin second (it thins out the excess campari in the measuring device and adds it to the drink), and vermouth last (it is usually the least expensive ingredient in this drink and thus, the most disposable when you rinse the measuring device).

And that's how to make a cheap-ass negroni :) Since each ingredient is added in equal proportion, (unless your bartender is a real noob) it's a difficult drink to get wrong and you'll get your moneys worth.

Next, you take your negroni and turn around and look at the a-fucking-mazing view of a supercity. Hypnotic to say the least. The drinks at SkyBar are not cheap by Bangkok standards, they are about on par with American or UK cocktails, however, it's not the drink you're paying for... it's simply a cover fee for a fantastic time, and it also happens to come with one free (and well made) drink.

After this experience and getting back to earth, bed.

The next day (yesterday), Sally-the-Brit and I ventured out in the afternoon sun in search of spicy-ass-melt-your-face-off food. We succeeded in this (can you believe it) and tucked into yellow curry. And then proceeded to have one of the weirdest experiences I've ever had; fish foot treatment. Don't know if that is the actual name, but it involves putting your feet in an aquarium full of little sucker type fish, who swarm onto your feet and lower legs and start munching away at whatever dead skin and whatnot your feet have accumulated. It feels so strange and your immediate reaction is to pull your feet out of the water, but when you hold on and remember that they're there to do good, not evil, it becomes a bit more bearable. And after a 15min fish treatment, how about a 1/2 hour foot massage, but of course. I already love foot massages, and this one was expertly done by a nice lady who I tried to speak to in horrible Thai, much to her amusement.

Today, I had the greatest conversation with a nice lady who runs a food stand close to the hostel I'm staying at; her English was actually quite good and she asked a million questions of me, where i came from, what I do, etc etc. She showed me a framed newspaper article of when her food stand was written up in a Bangkok news paper, after which her business increased quite a lot from what I could gather. My inept handling of chopsticks was hilarious to all around, as noodles would just not stay on. Then, she gave me an orange and two bags of asian peanuts, for FREE. (she emphasized the free part several times). I told her I could come back again. Little does she know what I'll come back with to inflect upon her... Mangostine!!

A train leaves for Chaing Mai soon. Away from the movement of Bangkok and onward to a luminous town in the north of Thailand.

Conduit closed.

-EZ

BKK 3 days in

2012-02-05T03:41:00.002Z

Dear Reader,

Three days into Bangkok and it feels like I've been here for a lot longer, I've seen and done many things.

Day 2 involved getting a haircut from a totally awesome older lady. That was great, simply because the Thai I know is "Koh toht: chan meh poot paa sah thaii" (I'm sorry I don't speak Thai) and her English was "okay; yes; no" which made for a lovely interaction of charades and describing various lengths of hair. She gave me three bananas afterwards.

After getting lost in back alleyways and moving through temple complexes, I caught a taxi to the train station to book an overnighter to Chiang Mai; a city in northern Thailand. Train stations are great places to hang out for a while and get a sense of a country. Most European train stations have a frenetic ambiance about them, in Iceland, there is no train station. The station in Bangkok is quite lovely; food sellers at all doors, interesting smells and people sitting and wandering about waiting for trains. Not entirely urgent feeling; a stark change from usual BKK style.

I asked a worker where good food was, and she pointed in a general direction, and so I ventured into an area where food stalls and blue collar workers ruled the small streets and tuk-tuks did not venture into.

"Phad thai?" "No phad thai. PHAD THAI!" She shouted down the street, to which I heard a cacophony of "Phad thaiii" echoing around me as other food stalls relayed the message to the phad thai stand. After a plate of phad thai, I saw some amazing soup, and feeling like I needed some spicy-ass-melt-your-face-off cures, I tucked into it and by my hand, over spiced it. A badly diseased, scarred, mangy, dog watched me from a short distance. I hoped it wouldn't come ask me for anything.

From there, I decided to get LOST. As lost as possible. The abundance of cheap taxis, and the fact that I had a flyer in Thai that would direct me back to my area, makes getting totally lost more of a fun challenge then a daunting prospect. I ended up in what can only be described as grease monkey central, where row upon row of shops specializing in only motorcycle and car parts were king. Many looks of "Where'd this guy come from?". Other highlights included chinese market, mangostine, hanging with an old dude outside 7-11 and inevitable trek back to the hostel.

Yesterday was market day. A brit and a lady from San Fran accompanied me to the 15,000+ stall, 7 football field size mother of all markets. Everything you could imagine there was being sold, hocked and haggled for. Again, brilliant food, interesting conversation and completely unnecessary haggling over literally pennies. The best part (in my opinion) was getting there. We took a water taxi to the train station, and it made me wish every american city had canals... even if they do become disgusting cesspools. My favorite cholera contracting experience was when two water taxis blasted past each other and the convergence of wakes made one almighty wave that poured into the cabin of my water taxi, right on me. It was gross and I tried not to open my mouth.

On that note, my steripen works brilliantly!! I've successfully sterilized two liters worth of Bangkok water and drank it to no ill effects. Who knows how many heavy metals and free radicals are floating around in there, unfazed by the stereipens usefulness, but that being said, giardia and other critters don't stand a CHANCE.

After marketing for a while, and sadly saying goodbye to a right good chap (brit Mike who came with the mega-market) it was time to organize a group to get some lovely noodles. After that it was a quest to find bugs. I decided everyone should get two taxis to go to a night market on the edge of town that i'd hear harbors fried insects and such. Well, how did I not predict this one: the cabs took us to two different markets, and consiquently, i didn't se group B again. But, thatt being said, we ended up at such a cool market! Everything second hand, found, stolen, pieced back together, and ONLY locals; nary a tourist to be seen. We took a beer at a make shift bar blaring old American rock hits. In many ways, Bangkok reminds me a the dystopian city in Blade Runner; a multitude of cultures, languages, technology, pollution, dilapidation and modernism that's all smashed together and marbled like lightly mixed, think oil paints, only to be cut across with a pallate knife and gently smeared across a humid canvas.

After venturing back to old Bangkok and into the backpacker central (Koh San Rd), I found complete mayhem and pandemonium. Think Paranoid Android, Koyaanisqatsi, and Reykjavik night life only 10 times cheaper and sprawling out onto and into everything. Utter. Fucking. Chaos. The best part about it was all these foot massage chairs and patios with drugged/drunk gringos (fa-nahh in thai) "relaxing" with (no doubt) Burmese workers smashing their thumbs into their feet, along with 100db thumping techno also smashing just as enthusiastically into their ears. As much as I love everything about Koh San Road, I moved on. But only after getting some good video of the whole spectacle.

Next, off to take in some Wats and take more water taxis around the city.

All the best,

-e

BKK 2.0

2012-02-03T02:45:00.001Z

Dear reader,

Hot. Humid. So effing cool. I'm grasping at words to describe Bangkok. It took about 3.5 hours to find my hostel (which is a clean and lovely place) after a dizzying hour on a tuk tuk my driver stopped basically said "it's around here... Somewhere". I could tell he probably missed about 5 others fares bumming around town with me, aimlessly searching for a hostel that seemingly diet exist. (The addressing and street "system" here is interesting so say the least.)

I've met a family taking their 10 year old daughter on a trip around the world. I hope to do something like that as well one day. Staying in the old part of town is lovely, the temples scattered around are stunning; glittering and almost glowing in The evening light. There is an old part of the old city that has been preserved and which is basically a glimpse into the Bangkok of old, homes are basically open air, trades like gold smelting, cock raising and bird-cage-crafting(?) are open for the public to see, although I get the feeling that most tourists don't wander down those small alleyways... I had the distinct feeling I was actually in someone's back yard or foyer, but all I got was smiles from the old ladies preparing the evening meal and giggles from little kids.

Today... Fruit. Soup. Other parts of town. Who knows what mystic sundries of the orient await.

Until next time,

-e

Location:Thanon Maha Chai,Bangkok,Thailand

Touchdown 1.0

2012-02-01T22:41:00.003Z

Dear Readers,

Landed in Taipei. Weird porrage thing on the plane with a topping that can only be described as powdered fish food to mix in as a savory addition to an already odd rice soup/pork mixture. Lots of hello kitty everywhere. Lights. Tinkling music. Jet lag. Will report more from BKK.

-e

SEA bound

2012-01-31T19:24:00.002Z

Dear Gentle Readers,
(skip to the "**********" to get to the point)

Hi. It's been a while, right? Well banish those thoughts of loneliness away, because I'm back and ready for a whole new world of blogging about travel... yes, that's right; another multi-month-job quitting-no holds barred-three sheets to the wind-one man, one backpack, adventure of a lifetime-kind of travel extravaganza that you can only read about here! I really think this should be my job. Travel. Sneaky ways to hack life and get around the current paradigm of how one must experience the world (college, debt, job, house, heavy objects, etc). Maybe the book will be called "True Neutral: A unscrupulous guide for the scrupulous person" or something. Here is an excerpt about what true neutrality might be:

"True Neutral characters believe in the ultimate balance of forces, and they refuse to see actions as good or evil. Since the majority of people in the world make judgements, True Neutral characters are extremely rare. True Neutrals do their best to avoid siding with the forces of either good or evil, law or chaos. It is their duty to see that all of these forces remain in balanced contention. True Neutral characters sometimes find themselves forced into rather peculiar alliances. To a great extent, they are compelled to side with the underdog in any given situation, sometimes even changing sides, as the previous loser becomes the winner. A True Neutral druid might join the local barony to put down a tribe of evil gnolls, only to drop out or switch sides when the gnolls were brought to the brink of destruction. He would seek to prevent either side from becoming too powerful. Clearly, there are very few True Neutral characters in the world."

To that end, I'd like to show people how to create a situation in their life that allows them to experience the best of the world that is outside a typical way of thinking, full of tips and tricky, cunning ways to outsmart obsolete methodologies for operating in current times, and status quo. Blah blah blah.

**********
I'm going to Southeast Asia in a matter of hours. Feel free chime into this blog to keep track of my progress and read about the experiences I have or decide to make up.

And above all, comment! Do want to hear your thoughts and useful info.

Best,
-E

A copy and paste for you

2011-02-22T08:18:00.002Z

Dear Reader,

I heard a song that I first heard in Iceland recently and it stirred up some memories. I was inspired to do a little research and because I think too much, tossed in my 2 cents on www.songmeanings.com about a Joanna Newsome song. Here is the audio:

and the lyrics:

We should shine a light on
A light on
And the book of right-on's right on
It was right on

I killed my dinner with karate
Kick 'em in the face, taste the body
Shallow work is the work that I do

Do you want to sit at my table?
My fighting fame is fabled
And fortune finds me fit and able

And you do say
That you do pray
And you say
That you're ok

Do you want to run with my pack?
Do you want to ride on my back?
Pray that what you lack does not distract

And even when you run through my mind
Something else is in front, oh, you're behind
And I don't have to remind you
To stick with your kind

And you do say
That you do pray
And you say
That you're ok

And even when you touch my face
You know your place
And even when you touch my face
You know your place

And we should shine a light on
A light on
And the book of right-on's right on
It was right on

And, if you've got time to kill, my explaination of why this song is the way it is:

"I have to say, I don't quite agree with the consensus on the thread that this song is about romantic relationships or religious subjects... there is nothing so specific in the lyrics that points directly to that.

One of the beautiful things about song writing is using vagueness as a canvas for listeners to project their own mentality and experiences onto the music.

And I think that's what Joanna Newsome is doing quite effectively here; riding the line, sitting right on the fence, in that grey area where ambiguity flirts with clarity.

Let's talk about children, wolves, and how it relates to forming identity.

"We should shine a light on
A light on
And the book of right-on's right on
It was right on --------------------------- “Shine a light on” quite a common way to say “illuminate” or to expose a certain truth. Now, the book of “right-on”: If there was a big book describing what is “right-on”, then it by virtue of being about what is right-on, it must be, RIGHT-ON... Right? On?

I killed my dinner with karate
Kick 'em in the face, taste the body
Shallow work is the work that I do" -------- Playing with food? A forceful display of personality? Shallow work... are children not involved in what adults see as shallow? Depends on how you think but I’d say you might concede that it’s possible.

"Do you want to sit at my table?
My fighting fame is fabled
And fortune finds me fit and able" ------------- I think of the kids table : ) And a kung fu movie.

"Do you want to run with my pack? ------- first animal/canine reference which has everything to do with social structure.
Do you want to ride on my back?-------- ride on my back; piggy back? another image of childhood.
Pray that what you lack does not distract" --------- almost xenophobic! "you can join me, you're from another kind but as long as your deficiencies don't inconvenience me, you're cool to stick around."

And you do say
That you do pray
And you say
That you're ok ---------- is this not what everyone does when we want to be accepted or seek approval from others? Social dynamics, identity.... are we getting somewhere?? : )

And even when you run through my mind
Something else is in front, oh, you're behind
And I don't have to remind you
To stick with your kind ----------------------- kind of an oddball lyric to me. Almost as if this person joining the pack is needy and clingy and there's always something to look forward to outside them. Like a bratty little sibling. Children, again. (on the themes of being childish, there is something to be said for the way words are enunciated and the timbre of JN's voice... she once said she was disappointed in critics saying that her singing sounded childish, however, it's almost impossible not to think of an 8 year old Björk when you hear JN's voice. Nothing to be disappointed about... the way she sings is an effective way to curry favor with listeners: like a high forehead implies youth, so does this singing. ok lets move on...)

And even when you touch my face
You know your place
And even when you touch my face
You know your place------------------- okay, here's a lyric that for me, almost certainly implies some kind of intimate relationship. Certainly there are roles in intimate relationships. For example, a man wouldn't try to take on the role of his female partners best female friend. If he does, he's pushed the "girl looses attraction for boy" button. The big red button. With his fist. In this regard, as the lyric says, "you know your place".

As for religion, the words "the book of" seems to imply something super heavy, revered, holy, etc. and the colloquialism "right-on" is the complete opposite of that... very hipster, actually, and putting together something very heavy with something very light is quite trendy these days; incongruity+irony=identity. (Oh and having the word "pray" in a song doesn't mean there's struggle with god going on. In this case the lyrics are essentially saying you're praying that you're ok.)

The most reasonable explanation in my mind is that the song is about identity. And in a way, her voice sounding young further strengthens this connection I see, of seeking and hoping and creating identity. In a world where a young person, especially a young woman is told so many things, and one is bombarded with billions of ads and signals and sight/sounds and enough information and enough push-pull to stun an ox, (especially a kid like Joanna Newsome who grew up with no TV, radio, media, etc) then identity is very likely a huge issue. Isn’t it always?

Ok, it’s about identity. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it until I decide to change it."

ok bye!
-e

ICELAND PHOTOS

2010-08-23T18:29:00.004+01:00

Gallery 1 Reykjavik–Myvatn

Gallery 2 Myvatn–Vik

Gallery 3 Vik–Reykjavik (end)

Heima

2010-08-23T18:14:00.003+01:00

Dear Reader,

I'm home! Has been this way for about a week... I know I know, not keeping up on the blog... its nasty. The last day in Iceland was spent geocaching with the Bragi-unit, taking us all over the Reykjanes peninsula, and finished off by meeting with some friends of friends; Icelander connections with some of my friends back in the states. It was here, after walking through sun drenched, long shadowed Reykjavik that we arrived at the BUS STATION, where I proceeded to indulge in an icelandic delicacy, SHEEP HEAD! You gatta eat everything with sheep head, and I'll tell you this, it looked worse then it was. After that and a quick coffee, I was off to pack.

The next day I arrived at the airport with a startling message... "you have been upgraded to business class"... and I remembered a few details from the night:
1.) Eddarós works for Iceland express
2.) I mentioned something to the extent of "It will be a significant day when I fly in first class for the first time"

This explained it... being the genius she is, talked to someone at Iceland air (the airline I was to fly back to the states on) and upgraded me into the most comfy seat I've ever been in. The wheels left that northern island and I stretched full out, filming the land reseeding behind us and a great expanse of low fog and blue sky widening before us. It was the best sendoff I could have imagined.

≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠

Sitting in bed, watching the dappled sunlight lazily stream and fall through the window, contemplating all that I saw and experienced there, I present to you the entirety of the photos and videos (over 1200 items!) I collected throughout this journey, laid out in three galleries.

Gallery 1 Reykjavik–Myvatn
http://gallery.me.com/ericsutherland#100075

Gallery 2 Myvatn–Vik
http://gallery.me.com/ericsutherland/100099

Gallery 3 Vik–Reykjavik (end)
http://gallery.me.com/ericsutherland/100113

I hope you enjoy these photos. Let me know if you have any questions about them. Thanks for keeping up with the blog! You're the best reader I know...

Until the next adventure,

-e

Gætya finkky meídra ísland, takk?

2010-08-10T14:20:00.000+01:00

Today is my last day in iceland. I hate these kinds of days. Anywhere. The day before i leave, when I see people going about their day living their lives. What I hate most is seeing weather reports for the days after your departure... That really gets me. I guess I've just... Really not liked one of Bose necessities of life, saying goodbye.

I'm sitting outside a cafe, sipping some decent coffee, freshly showered and in clean clothes and new shoes, looking over the Icelandic parliament building and city hall. There is no security in either of these places; they are completely open to the public. Luckily my cafe just turned up the bossa nova jazz, thus drowning out the music from the next cafe over, a bunch of generic air-conditioner noise that's constantly played in any given apple store.

Yesterday I met up with bragi, local couch surfer and community organizer extraordinare, and we went geoccaching on the Reykjanes peninsula. 5 of 6 caches successfully found. Later on we organized a small couch surfer meet up and a few factions of the local surfers came out. It was an evening full of life and fun conversation, and good connection. If there's two things I've learned since being in Iceland it's this: 1.) I can be a surviving lone wolf if I have to. 2.) I don't necessarily want that. I want connection, with people; this is the biggest thing I've discovered.

That and saying "gætya finkky einn _______, takk" will garner puzzled amusement bordering grief from the locals.

With that being said, instead of leaving, how about you reading this (yes, you!) come traveling with me on this strange, enchanting little island!! Dosent that sound nice? We can start a new life, It'll be great!

Thinking of it, last we spoke, I was just about to pick up a car and embark on a driving adventure... Ohh yes, and what an adventure it was. Here's a quick rundown of where I went In The car:

Snæfellsnes peninsula
Reykjavik
Skogarfoss
Vik
Jökulsárlón (Glacier lagoon)
Höfn

And then back to Reykjavik. On the night of revelry and baccus behavior. I lost the key to the car. I have NO idea how this could have happened! Come on! To me? Wth. After this realization, went to the rental company and upon learning they didn't have a spare, my heart sank. I was staring inthe face of some massive bill from a locksmith. They provided me with 5 keys of different cars but of the same model, in the hopes that one would work. Odin, frya and þor raised their "outlanddinger" (oursider, foreigner) cane of punishment high above their heads, ready to smite my inexperienced-in-ways-of-having-shitty-things-happen-to-me-on-this-trip ass black and blue, until seeing my self chastisement and mea-coulpas, desisted in the display of their wrath and gave me a working key. 4 keys didn't work. 1 did. Doors, AC power, engine. Success. In honor of the gods to whom this country is presided over, I drank many beers last night.

I've also started reading bukowski. It's depressing, and weird, but fun to read about such peoples exploits. Me reading bukowski might be a little lile you reading this blog? Hmm? Just a little? No? ... Probably for the better.

I've also enjoyed meeting all the French and German travelers...ive hung out with just as many Germans as icelanders and gotten to practice my vague approximation of what terrible German I pretend to know! Nice to learn languages! We need more of that in the states.

Just ran into the boyfriend of a couch surfer! Small place. Had BBQ at their place. This was the father of the little girl who could speak 3 languages at 6 years old; the little Viking who attacked me : )

You will get many pictures. Seriously. I have 3 SD cards worth of them.

Iceland... Next time, You will come with me.

Es muss sine!

Until America,

-e

Location:Vallarstræti,Reykjavík,Iceland

4:32

2010-08-04T11:52:00.002+01:00

I have 4 minutes to write this. I am in Reykjavik. I have a car. I am going to tour the south part of the island today and it will be beautiful. Yearning home a bit, so this will be a nice end to the Iceland adventure.

There are stories about Seyðisfjörður; no sooner had i mentioned wanting to meet people in the town, I stumbled upon the biggest party weekend in Iceland... the one where 17000 people descend into the westman islands and other places hold parties of their own, involving every young person in the town. This was one of those 4 day parties in Seyðisfjörður. good fun... meeting pretty much everyone in the town and having a blast! It was the 7th day of intensely good weather and sunshine.

Now, i plan to take my Suzuki Grand Viatra (aka big blue) down into the land of more waterfalls and glaciers then you can say yrijðörssuötuikjaðææ0öð%$ðöfæoreukjokull at.

all the best and thanks for reading on!

-e

From Seyðisfjörður

2010-07-29T22:26:00.003+01:00

Dear reader;

Many days have passed since our last conversation... from what I remember, I was in Akureyri the last time we spoke. This time, I am in the lovely hamlet of Seyðisfjörður. But much has happened before I arrived here...

From Akureyri I bussed to Myvatn (sp?), a geothermmal area like none other... the shallow lake displays lava fields around it, psuedo-craters, power plants, fissures issuing vast quantities of heat and steam... it´s the ´fire´ in the land of fire and ice.

I was spoiled at a wonderful campsite with free showers, wifi, and cooking stoves (aka free fuel). (time is limited) Hikes around huge gravel craters and to bizzare formations with farms built up around them were part of the journey... as were hills painted orange and white with steam rising up from all directions. Krafla, an active area and crater, is the area of a few power plants and they look like something from a video game... or avatar. In fact most of the place looks like something from fantasy. How I wish PC´s were easier to work with. Pictures are worth more then all this drivel...

Ok how about this;

Myvatn

Asbyrgi

Dettifoss

ROCK ON. Those are the places I have been the last few days before Seyðisfjörður. Geothermal activity to the max. Massive horseshoe canyon while listening to Neil Youngs 'on the beach' (a really weird album... but I think I like it) and the most amount of water I´ve ever seen moving faster then I could imagine. (get ready for a Koyaanisqatsi-esque video once I get home to a Mac...!)

Look, if you've read this much, just come to Iceland already, okay?? You won´t regret it.

The place I´m in now is very interesting... and by interesting I mean quirky. And by quirky I mean anti-social. Not anti-social in the sense that people don´t like people, no, this is a common misconception of the term anti-social. Antisocial is simply going against social norms and conventions... the antisocial personality type needs excitement, fun, and knows rules are for others. Also uninhibited when it comes to going against the grain. This is a bit like the antisocial town of Seyðisfjörður. And by antisocial, I mean just downright strange at times. Strange... to me. Many artsy types present their works here, and there is quite the bohemian feel to it. Yet the pub is only open for 4 hours... hmm... 2 hours tonight. (ex-fucking-cuse me??) and there are more arts and crafts style shops here then I´ve seen in Iceland. It reminds me a bit of Isafjordur but less people. There is the constant sound of waterfalls, as this place is nestled in the bottom of a long fjord and waterfalls are pouring into the valley from both sides... its quite beautiful.

There was a lot of fishing going on around here, and as with any unsustainable practice on a commercial level oops! Overfishing, and now its... well just less fishing. More tourism, I can only imagine. As far as the people go... I don´t want to say people are assholes; thats not practial. They are happy to take your money and are just as happy to see you go. Not interested beyond what is polite and necessesary. I have described Icelandic culture like this (and this could be the experience I´m getting only because I have turned into a hairy, twitchy, malodorus troll like creature. Just kidding. I´m perfectly good looking, clean shaven and smell great): Imagine a club. A very exclusive small club. And the membership to that club is speaking the special language only spoken by the MEMBERS of that club. This is my interpretation of say 85% of my interactions of the Icelandic hunman kind... with 15% of supreme exceptions. One being the couch surfing network in Reykjavik... truely fun, generous and gregarious people. The family on Hornstrandir. They are all going to proverbial heaven and were so rockin its hard to describe. The staff at Gamli Borjoe9p´roðpæðæöööðæpööööffjjkkoplðæðæðæ forget the name bar-cafe in Myvatn. We drank together and they introduced me to how young people live right above their summer jobs. So for these few exceptions, by qualatative measures, Icelandic people are great... its strange; its as if you´re eating marginal food 6 days a week, and the food you eat on the 7th day is SO phenomenal, so amazingly wholesome, that it makes the measly 6 other days tollerable and looking forward to that 7th days food. Is this making sense?

None the less, this is a great town. It would be even greater if I could get to know the people in it. The camp warden is hardly ever there and trusts you to pay for your days whenever you see him... whenever that is. The ´pub´ serves a special Icelandic beer, with the picture of the founder of the company on the bottle. And he also happens to be behind the bar. The gallery-cafes have active sound art installations in them and a nice one outside; a hose attached to a piece of wood attached to a metal chair so that it constantly sprays water in an arc. I thought they had their street... watering... system on, when in fact its water taken from the closest water fall. And the piece is called ´sitting under the waterfall´. Quirky. Antisocial. Welcome to Seyðisfjörður.

Until next rushed time,
-e

A few thoughts

2010-07-21T22:36:00.000+01:00

A few thoughts on akureyri... There are a lot of similarities between this town and port Townsend, Washington; both relatively small towns, both with an upper and lower part... Both with residential and a main drag... Both very liberal in attitude, and both with lots of history... As well as drawing lots of tourists.

Another thought: Theres all sorts of mythology about Icelandic women as well, which is funny to me because the rosy exterior is much nicer then the reality. And gentlemen (and ladies), reading this, there is nothing really special or unique about them. It's Europe, ok? There are beautiful women everywhere you go; again, everywhere you go in Europe, there are beautiful women. But in regards to America, that's about where the differences end... People are people everywhere, and their minds all work the same way because deep down we're all the same; from what I have experienced, like everywhere else, the über hotties are stuck-up psycho-bitches just like everywhere else, and the ugly ones are nice and have cool personalities, just like everywhere else. AND, just like everywhere else, there are beautiful women with equally beautiful personalities and not so good looking angry mean girls. How is this different or special from anywhere else in the world? Let us dispel these myths once and for all, and realize the true oneness of human bio/psycho/physio-hardwiring. On hornstrandir, the remote peninsula, I was talking to a family and in that family was a girl my age who enlightened me to the concept of Icelandic "hams" (skinka I think is the word) which are fake tanned orange girls with eyebrows dyed jet black and hair dyed white-blonde. (see fig. 1, 6am Reykjavik, any given Friday or Saturday.) also she spoke of guys with Mohawks and American clothes on driving souped up cars which Also indicated small wieners in Iceland as it does in the states.

On this note, Sigur Rós made a movie about their 2006 free, unannounced series of concerts in Iceland. It's called Heima, and really worth checking out for probably their best tour to date and the amazing cinematography. So, I was talking to a friend about my trip to Iceland, about why in particular and I was explaining, "well sigur rós comes from there, and here's lots of amazing scenery and beautiful nature, amazing night life... Not to mention there's a lot of beautiful women on top of that!" to which the next obvious question was, "oh cool, what do they look like?" and I proceeded to show her a clip of the film heima which I thought demonstrated the effortless beauty of some of these people.

Iceland is a small place; why just in Reykjavik alone, I ran into the guy I sat next to on the plane and saw a few other people I had seen through out my few days there. From the ferry in stykkisholmur, there were many people I ran into in isafjordur. And tons of people I saw in isafjordur over and over again through the few days there. Hornstrandir is a place for making friends it seems, simply because you are there with a limited few and running into eachother is inevitable, like with the Bavarian I met coming back to civilization on the ferry. But in akureyri, probably the most erie, weird sequence of events took place... I was in a place called cafe Paris, on the main drag of the town, and because i had forgotten my own pen, i borrowed one from the staff there, as I was writing in my journal... Writing about my home, what it means to me, amongst a bun of other mind garbage. And one of the employees working in the cafe looked really familiar, I wondered if it was such a small country that I had seen her maybe in Reykjavik or elsewhere. I asked her if she had seen sigur rós on their tour around Iceland. And she said yes, that she saw the in Ásbyrgi, the horseshoe shaped canyon supposedly made by Odins flying, 8-legged horse who briefly stepped in that place Nd made quite an impression. When she said that, it clicked; I was talking to the girl who I seen in the heima film, and who i had shown her image to my friend when asked how beautiful were icelandic women...! Then I looked at the pen I was writing with... It was from a hotel in Seattle. This is a testament to the small, interconnected nature of this island, and probably why there is so little crime; if everyone is connected, you wouldnt do harm to hose you know, right? It was stranger then strange... Could this all be chalked up to coincidence? Made me wonder... Seattle, pseudo-celebrity... Hm.

Location:Strandgata,Akureyri,Iceland

From the ends of the earth (almost)

2010-07-20T00:41:00.004+01:00

Reader!

Amazing to get back to a computer. Last I left you i was still in Reykjavik and time flies... i´m afraid my photos are terribly out of sync with my words because they are so difficult and time consuming to upload on the archaic PC´s i´ve been using. Working on a solution to upload a large file to my FTP site then provide you with a link to download them and view in full glory on your computer.

Things have been interesting... I am back in Isafjorður after 3.5 days on the Hornstrandir peninsula and nature reserve. Treated myself to a night in the local hotel here, as a reward for the OH SO grueling conditions I just HAD to withstand while on the peninsula ;)

but let me write about where we last left off...
After the debauchery of a weekend in r´kavik, I set out for the Ring road, road 1: build by americans (i THINK) during WWII, the ring road goes all around the island and connects many towns. It was this road I aimed for in getting out of reykjavik, which, like most urban centers, was difficult to get out of, as the area surrounding the outskirts of town and the ring rtoad are built for cars, not humans. Nonetheless, after some trying and asking questions, I managed to find myself standing there, thumb out, waiting for a ride. 10 minutes later, I found myself in a car, the likes of which looked like he was living in it, of a guy with beer in hand, (at least it looked like some kind of malt) traeling to Mosfelsbær, a suburb of Reykajavik. Also happens to be the place that spawned Sigur Ros, and holds their current studio, which I did see and get a cheesy tourist photo of. The end goal was a place called Stykkisholmur, town that had the ferry to take me to the West fjords. I wont bore you with too many details of hitchhiking, save to say that 8 hours and 6 rides got me there, and got me onto the snæsenfels (sp) peninsula, an amazing piece of land and one that i will revisit on my car tour around iceland. I was dumped (not dumped, really) in places in the middle of the road that were so quiet and erie, the mountains with shadows of clouds over them and sheep bleating in the distance, just amazing sights. It wasn´t difficult to find rides, 10-15 mintues was the max time i spent waiting. Anyone who has the grace and courage to pick up a lone male hitchhiker has my blessing and thanks, and a couple (he from denmark, she from iceland) had the good curtosey to drive me the rest of the way to Stykksholmur, through lava fields and the wastes of red mountains and bleak rock. I camped at a local camp site just outside town, and watched the world cup in a packed-like-sardines common house, watching holland SUCK and seeing people shout with glee at spain in their godless, and undeserving victory. (But remember I'm american and don´t accually care about soccer,i just had to root for holland because i lived there for 1.5 years!)

Stykkisholmor was a beautiful little fishing town, nice little houses and a charming center, with a great naturally protected harbor with a little island just beyond the main breaker that you can walk up to. After getting my ferry ticket, i had time to kill and went to a local cafe to write postcards and drink coffee. Up on top of the small island, later on, it was suberbly nice: beautiful view of charming sea side town, with the mountains of the snæsenfels peninsula in the background. True panorama material. Boat ride; nothing extraordinary... just a nice day on the water! can´t beat that. Getting into the west fjords was a different story though... the landscape almost at once became more intimidating and rugged (again, wish I had a mac for photos sake! this PC is at 88 of 280 images and videos on my first SD card) which makes one feel pretty small... and it MUCH more rural in comparison to the peninsula I was on, which was pretty rural indeed. Hitchhiking became more challenging here, as there are less people and the people whoa re there are usually families with filled up cars, campers hitched to the back and brimming with blonde children, or the lone service-provider-person, probably off to his next job fixing a broken refrigerator in ðæöþsfjördþæðöruryyséksmén. None the less, I came across, Vhan-can, a nice french guy who picked me up and suggested to travel to some less traveled parts of the west fjörds, to which I agreed. My limited french was no match for his intermediate english, and together we explored the long roads of the west fjords, getting a sense for what the end of the world looks like on top of some of these mountains... a stark and becautiful place, which inspires superstition and a fearful survival instinct. In this, I begin to knock on the door of the independent icelandic cultural traditions... ever so slightly... and get to know it even better on the hornstrandir peninsula, which i will discuss later.

Vhan-can (or vincent) and I went to the end of a road, a long gravel stretch ( of which most are gravel) and walked out to a spit, a sandy ismus with arctic turns attacking us, swooping down cawing their discontent with us so near their nests. fiersome little birds, they are truely aggressive and you have to put your hand up so they dont scratch your head. They also use shit as a weapon, but luckily I did not experience this first hand. Out on the beach, there was nothing. Just the gently waves from clear blue water, the galcier of the snæsenfels peninsula in the distance, the mountains to our back, sweeping down into the sea and the beach, clouds letting piercing rays of sunlight down into the select few, lucky patches of earth and sea, and the most interesting of all, the beach; at once edge pure black where the water laps the shore, and at the tide line and beyond, vivid orange, a bright orange enough to contrast the sky and water combined... wasn´t sure if it was broken shells, weathered down by years or something else, but right undernieth the orange sand, black lava sand, striking against its top color. Truely awesome scene, and again, wish my camera could describe it to you as my eyes did for me. and wish this computer would hurry up with that download.

moving on...

Many hours of driving later, we came to Bredavik (sp), the ends of the earth style habitation and camp ground. (thats where I wrote the last blog entry.) After a late evening and a bit of rain, we woke up to blazing sun and warm weather. It was a family run business, this small, dingy hotel and camp ground, with really nice, charming people. I learned they were also sheep farmers and had around 700 sheep, freely roaming the countryside. I forgot to ask how they find them all in winter...
Vincent, suggested we see the famous bird cliffs of the most south-westerly part of the west fjords. Which turned out to be quite cool! approaching the cliffs via more gravel roads, you could smells the stench of their bathrooms/homes, and the insessent complaining and kawing of litterally thousands of sea birds. Sea, salt, bird shit and the sonic quality of the place made for an experience out of my understanding. You could walk up to the cliffs, get on your belly and crawl to the edge, and there before you, tamer then tame, might be a puffin, just sitting there, looking at you with its curiously big clown eyes. Cute creatures, and apparently taste good, I said to the german couple next to me who turned up an eyebrown silently moved on )you´d have liked that, gene!).

It was time to move on. After all, the birds had fish to catch and we had sights to see. Dynjandi is a special place, a place new agers believe is a power spot in the earth. I call it, just plain statistics; a planet this big, in its geological formation, has to, at some point, produce the perfect view and scene, massive waterfall and beautiful fjord, right in once place. This was our destination, and eventually were the first SD ran dry. The road there, however, is more desolate and barren then most other roads, i can imagine. ROcks. Brown rocks. Bald mountains, and the omnipresent moss that layers icelands ground. Eventually, out of the mountains we came, and were presented with the waterfall, Dynjandi. It was not the first time my mouth dropped but the first time it hit the floor since being in iceland; one of the truely astonishing sights that one can see on their travels here and indeed, around the world (youWILL see the pictures).

Dynjandi is a massive, wide, tall, tumbling waterfall. It lives at the base (or begining) of a fjord, and at the bottom are a couple rivers and a campsite right by the seaside. You can also hike up the the waterfall itsself. What´s interesting about it, is that there are many waterfalls along the small trail up to it, all starting small and getting progressively bigger and bigger. Sonically, getting louder and louder as well, as you get nearer to the mother of all. I´d say about 150 ft wide and at least 3 or 4 stories high, it is massive and aweinspiring. One of the coolest things about Iceland is its purity of water... i don´t know anywhere else where you can freely, and safely lap up stream and river water. The sickest you´ll ever get is from too much beer or sweets! I think most the water i´ve drank on this trip has been from the land itsself.

Whats also strange, is that back in Brendavik and also at Dynjandi, I ran into a neighbor, a true neighbor! someone who lives litteraly 3 streets away from me back in seattle, I met here at the ends of the earth! Was quite impressive, really. Vincent was carrying on away from that place, and I was to head to Isafjordur. I would stand by the road and wait for a car in that direction, and if no one came, I would camp there at Dynjandi. After about two hours of munching on dried fish, it was getting later and I decided to camp. But not after I scoped out a better spot, away from the hoard of campers and children; a little dot of land, right on the sea side, looking out over the massive fjord with the big water fall behind and to the left, and a smaller stream/waterfall to my right, i camped there on that grassy patch looking over everything and in the most amazing of places, and also feeing quite lonely at that point; the curse of the lone traveler perhaps? but it IS what I signed up for and in a way I think of it as a test of strength and courage. None the less, I would have liked for you to have been there with me, as that is a sight to be shared.

The day after breaking camp, I learned about the difficulties of traveling in this rural place by thumb, and that is there are NOT MANY PEOPLE THERE. And also the people who are driving there are, like I said, families with cars filled up or just simply wary people of a lone dude out there in the middle of no where. Maybe too many american slasher flicks. That being said, I walked a lot that day and was picked up twice: once by a nice older out doors type guy, and once by a lady with a MASSIVELY tricked out, modded, landrover type car witha little baby in the back seat! This is how it went; looking at my map, i figured it was 17 kilometers to the nearest town and place to set up camp. OR I could cross the next mountain pass, and safe about 10 kilometers of walking. Hitchhiking got to the point where I extended money bills along with my thumb, but that might have insulted people rather then encouraged them to pick me up. An act of desperation if I ever saw one. But, it was at the moment I decided to cross the mountains that the Gods decided to send me an angel who was that lady and her baby. She drove me all the way into Isafjordur, through a long, 7KM erie tunnel, and out on the other side, popped a grocery store! Great success. I love grocery stores... they somehow embody something about a place that isn´t grasped in any other type of establishment. I bought some camper style food, knowing that i´d need it for the next part of my journey.

Another stroke of luck; the grocery store was a few KM out of town, and stuck out my thumb again to the 3exit of the place, and a nice girl picked me up and drove me into town, in fact, to the best beer joint and cafe in Isafjordur! how sweet it was to have that crappy icelandic beer in the sun, sitting with locals and other tourists, just soaking it in. I think I spent the whole day there, doing nothing and having fun with them, only to stagger off to the near campsite and catch a few Z´s before investigating how to get to the hornstrandir peninsula. (Live note: uploading files on the go might be the most frustrating thing ever. there are no macs around, okay, thats fine, and this fucking PC won´t allow me to ZIP the GD file. This might be impossible.)

Anywayy, I had to wait another day in Isafjordur for the propor boat connection to be made... apparently to do the trip I wanted to do, I had to wait so... yeah. thats that. so i got a room in a guest house, very nice, cheap, place and checked email, read the unbeawrable lightness of being which is a good book btw, if you haven´t heard about it ;) and then the next day came, and I was on a boat, to something which seemed like a battle to me, because I knew it was going to be me, alone, in the wilds of Iceland, with no communication and just a map and compass and my home on my back. What a wild time, and an exausting time I might add. First, we landed in Heyteri, which was a small town adn apparently a doctor lived there. It was absolutely nice! Beautiful weather the whole time, and I was presented with a choice; take the lower route along the seaside (which is not tao be taken at high tide) or the higher which goes on top of the fjord. I took the lower. At high tide, of course. Thats the tom sawyer in me I guess, always doing something the most difficult way possible. It was great fun, but also a bit percarious at times, as I was forced to do some Bear Grylls style jumping and climbing... at one point, I was forced to climb onto a small, peninsula type thing of land, and jump across a gap, climb up more, climb down about 6 or 7 feet and scramble after my backpack as it started to slide off, and on either side of me was a drop of about 30 feet. It all ended up alright though... that wasnt´t even the most difficult part... the worst of it was getting to the end of the fjord and climbing out. Everyone says going up it easier then coming down. I disagree. Youmake way better time coming down and use less energy doing it. It´s fun coming down. It´s like saying whats more entertainin, uphill skiing or downhill skiing? Well in my opinion, its the downhill thats the best. After an exausting climb up (oh and the reason for that? because the backpackers map i had dosen´t conform to reality! oh wow! in for an adventure now!) and out of the fjord, I made my way to the other end of the peninsula. Cairns, few and far between, guided what vague assemblence of a trail there was. Across green moss ridden steppes, water flowing freely from snow tracts, clinging onto the mountain side, and up another brown rock climb, I stood ontop of a mountain and looked down to the otherside of the sea, and beyond that sea lay Svalbard, probably, and the north pole. Desolate. Alone. The nighttime sun guiding me and then mountain shadows cast down on the land as I desended. Long walking time, it was, and the playlist in myhead played truely random tunes... trashy tunes that you shouldn´t listen to when sober. Rivers, and water falls... shadowns and sunlight and moss again. Hard to describe without some photos (of which seem less and less likely because of these worthless computers I´m forced to type on...) Finally, after much deliberation and walking, I manage to find the sea. Some campers direct me to the official camp site, and I refill my water blatter and bottle before heading 2 more kilometers to the site. Along the beach, I come across 2 pairs of arctic fox babies! They seemed tame and didnt run too far when I was walking pretty much beside them. As I approach the camp site, I walk past a family of Icelanders, and I greeted them with the traditional goðamdayen(good day), also asking if I could set up camp nearby. They seemed friendly enough, and if i´ve learned something about these northern countries, its that you don´t want to be the typical, outgoing, what they feel as overbearing american. I keep reserved and quiet, and a little girl, about 10 years old, comes over to me as I´m setting up camp with a hotdog ´would you like an icelandic hotdog?´she asks. It was like heaven... as if kindness was like drinking from a spring when you´re partched, I accepted. they beconed me to join them, and I went over. With them, they had soup, hotdogs, bread, beer, liquor, coffee, hot chocolate... everything you could imagine! What I learned later on, was that they were trekking through the Hornstrandir, and had arranged, via a small shop in isafjordur, for food to be dropped at specific locations by a boat, on beaches... so basically they would order what they wanted, and just have it all delivered to their campsite! Amazing. They gave me beer, hotdogs, a few shots of booze, but more then all that, they were company. it felt like family. The little girl, olof was like the icelandic version of my little sister... funny, mischevious, gergarious, outgoing, with a bright indigo around her. A truly fun person to be around, and she chattered at me with the best english I´ve heard a young, non-english speaker use. I went to sleep with a full belly, on the seaside with the midnight sun dipping down behind an impending cloudbank that the land seemed to just be keeping at bay. Next morning, I broke camp and set off for hornvik, site of those massive cliffs you see in icelandic ads. The journey there wasn´t as bad, maybe because mentally i knew i was going to a great place. A steep climb up a mountain, down through another valley of bleak stones and moss, and then up again, and then down and along the seaside. I got stuck behind a scout group of about 30 icelandic teenage boys, loud and obnoxious as ever, which slowed my progress. Ah well. Sometimes you have to hear those obnoxious songs they sing and the weird gutteral sounds procuded by an old norse tongue. Hofn, is the estuary is something out of Avatar... cradeled by mountains, it is a fertile plaine of grass and sand, the cliffs and hills surriounding it pouring their glacial melt and spring water into the delta there and then spewing it out into the sea. the beach is dark with fluffy sand, and there is a ranger station there with a knowledgeable kindly guy who over sees the place. I set up camp, away from the other tents in a nice little alcove, tucked away beyond the wind and against a rock wall, and near the mountain side, hoping that the icelandic family I met might set up nearby and I could have their great company once again. Taking a walk around the place, sea birds roamed around, and a slight mist of moisture was present in the air so it made the distance look even greater. On the map, it dosent look like much... in reality, it is MASSIVE and one of the more becauseitul places Ive ever been. There, also lies the Hornbajrg, home to the great king and queen of cliffs of the world, like water, sloshing about and frozen in place at the zenith or its slosh, those cliffs sweep up into the air and then fall away at once, and look as if someone carved them with the exacto-knife of the Godkings. (again, hoping for pictures). about 2 hours after I arrived, the family arrived as well and did set up near me. I was once again with the friendliest people I´ve met in iceland. Little did I know, however, that in their most recent food drop, they had ordered two legs of lamb and a load of charcol to cook it with! In the beach, they dug a BBQ, and set about making bernaise sause and seasoned potatoes. Olof invited me to join them for dinner, and with wine, beer, potatoes, sause and the BEST lamb I´ve ever had, we ate our fill ion the cold,dying sunlight and mist of the hornstrandir. The lamb, cooked to perfection, was also wrapped and marinated in herbs they had picked from the hill side... flowers, icelandic thyme, and others made a delicious seasoning that couldn´t be had elsewhere. I felt truely at home. I felt full, and happy... it was like thing i´ll experience again, eating extraordinary food with wonderful people, in what I felt before was a barren, desolate and lonely place.

It is the kind of place that inspires superstition, sonic quality being the gentle white noise of breeze across the land, and the omnipresent sound of waterfalls in the distance or babbling brooks and springs welling up and streaming underfoot towards their never changing goal of the sea. You could definaetly get wrapped up in the spirits, hidden folk, trolls, elves, etc if you spent enough time there, your mind playing tricks on you.

THe next day was exausting. Rough. Although a beautiful sunny, day, I knew I watned to see those cliffs up close, and i also knew I had to get to my pickup point, which was one fjord away from where I started, but also across the entire peninsula from where I was in hornvik. It was going to be long. I set out at about 12pm, across the flat land, away from the beach because the ranger said you can´t get across the river when its high tide, so with all my clothes on (it was cold) it set out... then all of the sudden, halfway across the black sanddunes, it was hot! oh great. None the less, the lid of my pack detached and I could use it as a day pack with the essentials in it. I crossed the river, but stupidly didn´t take off my pants, and all three lower layers got wet. I put them around my neck to dry, and carried on, down the beach, staying close to the fjord side. Heading north was my direection, and although the map said there was a trail, it fluctuated and constaltly disappeared and reappeared along the beach. hard going on stones, as they try and twist your feet this way and that. But some amazing scenery... sea stacks, and water falls cascading down into the ocean... Finally, after a long walk, I started to ascend. The smells were getting stronger, of grass and herbs, and flowers, not unilke costal washington and vancouver island... a familiar smell that urged me on. Finally, after a long ascent (There was a good view of the whole steppe now) I came to a cliff. The northern most point of hornbajrag (sp), and a famous picture point. You keep following the cliff edge and the trail leads you up, across a mountain and into the next part of the valley... it disappeared though and i made up a trail as I went. Kind of scary, being on a mountain like that... steep. Big view. I didn´t like it. I prefer to be on the sea. On top of that, there were NO trails up there, and the space was immense and massive. Although the views were out of this world... there they were, sweeping upwards, those cliffs i´ve seen so many times on Google image searches of ´iceland´. At this point, the trail descended and lead me to a small lake on that strip of land, but then just as it had been so strongly there, disappeared, and on the map it showed a competely different trail, climbing the second mountain! i trail blazed up that mountain, and came out on top, looking for another trail... there were paths not on the map and the path i was looking for didn´t seem to exist. I could see the cliffs. And after climbing to the cliff edge, impossibly high and what felt to be super precarious, in that beating sunlight, driven on by frustration alone, and said fuck it, and made a V-line to back to the beach. I was lost, felt mislead (overreaction, of course), and ready to leave as the clouds were rolling in like an unwelcome flood. I saw the cliffs and that was enough, so I half jumped, half ran down the steep slopes until i was deep into stream territory, and followed a river until I coud make my way back down to the beach. At least I could see where i watned to be. After getting down back onto the beach trail, it wasn´t far to the delta/estuary to where i had to cross to get back to the camp site... but it was flodding now, low tide apparently causes deep rivers or water. I walked to the end and saw about a 50m streatch of water to cross. An american couple caught up with me, (from boston) and the man of the two happily said i´ll scout it! i was more then happy to let hiim... he walked out into the water which, at the last moment, became waist deep. I was not about to let some water get in my way, after all i was in a hurry and had to make it to the pickup point THAT NIGHT so that the boat would not leave me behind in the morning. So they left, as they had time to go around and the lady had all her warm gear on, and I bundled everything up, took off my pants and rolled up my shirts, and went headlong into the water. IT did get deep by the end, and i was shriviling up if you know what imean, but i MADE it. Bear grylls would be proud. As the other americans were vanishing into the distance, I let out a naked victory woo-hoo! and they in turn responded with vicory yelps. Walking the kilometer back to camp on sand though was probably more frustrating then any of the last bit, because i could SEE where i wanted to go, but it was terribly slow going. Basically after getting back, and making a feed bag, I packed up everything, left a note for the family who had given me so much, and went on, a little sad and a little daunted by the trekk ahead of me. Map said it was 9km, and i know how to trust that map... long hike, lots of up, not a lot of cairns... and it was difficult. I knew though, that stopping was not an option, and the thought of getting back to civilization kept me going, like some lone.. .person or thing, or whatever.

the lack of trail meant I actually used my compass for the first time, and headed directly south west. A bit scary, really, but I used my instincts and looked for traces of humans before me, in footprints. Compass, footprints, and the occasional carin finally got me to the top of the pass.

As I got up to the mountain pass, there was a large snow field, and looking at the tracks in front of me, looked like you could slide down it... so thats just what i did, it was quite a steep slope and i was really glad that i wasn´t climbing UP that thing. I sat down, and skied down the thing! it was pretty fun, a moment of glee in all that trudging. In a moment of loosing the trail, I saw people. Hope! Humanity! Two of them, far down, but going slow enough to catch up to. I hauled ass down there and eventually caught up with them. They were a german couple, from Bravaria, heading to the same pickup point. We banded forces together and headed down... they set a strenuous pace which got us down a lot quicker. More snow fields, and I kept thinking i´m so glad i´m not climbing up this thing... Evnetually, finally, we made it to the bottom of the valley, and to the base of the fjord. The boat company had told us to go just a little out from the base, so as we went, we saw a mooring bouy in the sea, and an A-frame latrine. We were there. Made it. At 1AM sharp. My day hard started walking around steep cliffs, sprinting back and then walking 10 kilometers to the rendezvous point. Setting up camp was mechanical; footprint, tent, poles, etc. They had salami from Germany with them, and it tasted like heaven. We went to bed at 2am, bellies full, ready for the boat ride back. I awoke at 8am, feeling quite rested, for some reason, and packed up my gear. The boat came, and we loaded our selves onto it, but only a bunch of soon to be sorry saps loaded off it, clearly looking like they were on holiday, and apparently, going to climb what I had just come off of. Hope they´re alright because it would take a very persuasive guide to muster that kind of motivation.

Onto the water, and one more pickup, we stopped at a family summer house, and there dogs and kids greeted us. They had to unload some gear (a cement mixer and an off roading ATV) onto the boat to get them serviced in the town, i guess. Anyway, was a funny sight, dead tired hikers, babies, dogs and farm equipment on a boat in fjords. Felt to me, a small fraction of the relief that soliders must feel when they are pulled out of the field and back home to base or whereever... relief to be back and alive, and allowed to realx a little.

When we got into the nearest town (actually not isafjordur) we were waiting for a bus. Next to the stop was a grocery store, and one by one, we all went in an bought copious amounts of sweets. After being so pure in the wilderness, we all had one thing on our mind; SWEETS. Funny, that. just loaded up on junk food... None the less, I treated myself to the upscale hotel in isafjordur, a room and bath all to myself, where i can shower, repack, dry out and get laundry done. Which is where I'm writing this from now, and where hopefully i´ll get some photos uploaded... Wish I had my Mac ;)

Thats all for now... 2:20am and time for bed. next stop... Akueryri and the Northeast. Or Reykjavik and the Southeast. We´ll see.

Until next time...

-eric

Departing to hornstrandir

2010-07-16T14:04:00.000+01:00

Been hard to find Internet and time to write! Been hitchhiking in the west fjords, and until today (clouds) the weather couldn't be better. Did not expect to get a tan in Iceland. Just a quick update, I'm going to be hiking the hornstrandir peninsula until Monday... It's a vast piece of land, unspoiled by human presence (except mine and lots of other hikers) and home to some AMAzing cliffs. Check them out on google images, they are awesome. I really wish I had a better way to get photos online but unfortunately there's a sad lack of computers in my life and a lack of quick Internet connections... Nonetheless, I'll do my best when I get the chance. Until next time,
-e

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPod

Location:Aðalstræti,Ísafjörður,Iceland

Part II; reykjavik, my dearest

2010-07-10T14:15:00.003+01:00

A lot to write now! holy cow the days are packed and last I left you with was when I was feeling lonely and ragged in a windy, cold city.

BUT all that changed, that very same day of jetlaggyness. I met up with Bragi, in infamous pillar in the couch surfing network. He is like Gene (if you know Gene), into good food, drink, merryment, etc. Friend of everyone, Bragi, maker of connections. We met up a Zimsen, a little bar in town (this is Wednesday, mind you) and Bragi had plans to take some people sight seeing the next day. We agree it won´t be a long night. More couch surfers show up, and it becomes an all out party-meeting thing. (typing on this POS really makes me miss my mac...) anyway, Bragis got a hook up at the bar; just say you´re a couch surfer and he worked something out with the owner so that we get a discount. We end up doing pretty much ALL their business for the night, because before long the beers keep coming, and now (uh oh) the brennavin! Icelands famous, 'black death´ distilate. Not that bad, tastes like caraway or Kummel. Anyway things wind down and its now like 1am... so much for the early evening. Jetlagged but feeling much more alive, I make my way back home...

... but things happen to me along the way. Like hearing a really heavy metal band up in a building as I pass by... there were stairs up the back of the building that ended about chest level... but being the sneaky person I am (hey i´m on vacation) I climb up them, and enter into a patio area. After sneaking under the ropes meant to keep me out, I start up a conversation with a guy who speaks quite good english,and we go in and check out the bands. The venue itsself reminds me of the comet Tavern back home on Capital hill; a bit dingy and lurid on the inside but pure in spirit. or something. THe show reminds me of a curtain show at Neumos, several bands, all local acts playing pretty hard stuff. Lots of head banging. Lots of beer. Jesus i´m going to pay tomorrow...

12.49;

Shit, my head! what the hell? Well whatever (this is my thought process you´re witnessing) and then I think .oh my god! there´s a free walking tour around reykjavik!. I had heard of this... a 2 hour totally free walking tour, coming very highly rated in many icelandic travel forums and online resources. But it starts at 1300 and i have exactly 11 minutes to get there. Woke up, got out of bed, dragged a comb across my head...

Minutes later, I´m there and Jonas, our guide is a jolly, upbeat, funny as all get out, totally viking dude. THis will be good, couldn´t be better. He gives us probably the best tour i´ll ever get; candidly speaking about the icelandic situation, lifestyle, housing prices (which was SUPER interesting... wow they´re in the shitter) and is basically just a good hippy at heart. Much good advice is given, like asking for deals, promotions, and discounts where ever you go. Check. Budget eating, check. Then he pitches another tour they give, the white night geothermal swimming and dinner tour. This sounds interesting... a bit pricey but i figure i´ll ask for a deal, eh!?

After the walking tour I spoke with the owner of the tour company, which is probably the best tourist resource in reykjavik (google my reykjavik tours) and really now, cruises, tours, all that shit really isn´t my cup of tea. Srsly. So if you know me and know i´m not really into hanging out with a bunch of random people (probably onoxious americans) then you´d know this had to sound pretty damn interesting for me to check it out, so I did; talked with the owner, and worked out a half price deal if all the spots were not sold out, which as luck would have it, they weren´t.

But before that, I had signed up to play (sacrifice myself for slaughter) in chess with s local couchsurfer named thörsbjörk. She is traveling to the fareo islands to compete in an international chess competition, and quite by accident; supposedly she signed up with her girls chess club to spend 8 days playing against some damn good players. After being slaughtered mercilessly, and a bit more hang out and talking shite it was time to take this tour.

The thing that made this so cool was our guids, ymir and jonas (from the walking tour). Fun, free thinking, candid, no BS down to earth guys. A group of about 15 or 20 mostly american and canadian depart the city and head out into the mountains. THis is my first time seeing steam rising from the earth. Moss covered lava fields. Mountains springing up from nothing. wow. All with minimal, but funny-as-hell commentary from jonas and ymir. Now for the back roads and gravel... this is when it started to get surreal for me; medows pouring down from the hills in the distance, a glistening lake in the bright night sun (its about 9.30 or 10.00pm at this point) and we start walking... the air has the strong smell of sulfer and is very pungent and cold. We pass a lunar structure thing, belching out steam. I´m told its a testing hole, they drill down to see if its a good spot for geothermal energy and put this little structure over it in the meantime. (there´s a picture of that). Up, up into the hills! Onward we hike, and we pass gurgling, boiling, steaming, belching pools of molten clay-water, the likes that steam up your camera and glasses, and bathe you in a hot, fine mist. The heat from those things is intense. STRAIGHT up from the ground! It´s really blowing my mind now, i´m looking at living, moving earth right before my eyes. Most people will never see this stuff. There is a little girl on our tour as well, and I can only imagine how awesome that an 8, 9, 10 year old kid can see these things.

Up onto the hill and then we descend into a valley. More geothermal goo. More gurgling... still really freaking cool. (i´m typing quickly because this is a shared computer)

still light out! very bright. we start passing little rivers, walking over them, hot almost boiling rivers... just doing my head in, left and right, look up and you get a mountain with shimmering sun on the top of it and golden clouds. Coming across another river, our guides tell us that you can drink from it, stright from it. I get on my hands and knees and that a huge swig. It´s probably the best thing i´ve done since being in iceland... its cold, and pure, and delicious.

Finally we come to a place where a hot river and a cold river meet, creating a nice 38 degree C temp. and a the place to swim in. I like being in hot water, and iceland is THE place to sit around in hot water. Drinking, sheep testicles, whale meat (I know ani, but i was starving and it was in front of me and their quotas are different then the japanese, much more strict in iceland i´m told) and brennavin! more of that stuff. I break out the theo chocolate and it´s well received. The sky has moved from silver to mother of pearl to beige, now to a kind of creamy platinum, and its time to wrap up. Another hour hike, across rivers, and along a huge gorge (big waterfall down below), cameras do nothing to depict how amazing this landscape is. And this is just minutes outside reykjavik!

finally, back on the bus and in town at 3.30am. STILL light enough to not need headlights.

Ok, next day, hung over again. ´gzus,´i´m thinking, ´i really didn´t intend to get trollied the first two nights´ but hey, I'm young and on vacation.

Day 3
This day, summer sprang into reykjavik and it was no-jacket time for everyone! Shorts for some, even. I walked around, up to a park, fed ducks with some cute kids, hung out in the park more... there are some pictures of that as well, i think. This was also the day i explored a lot more Reykjavik on foot; the imposing hlemurr (sp) church looming over everything, and the lagavour st (main shopping/cafe drag) all atwitter with hustle and bussel. Sunny faded into clouds, and it was naptime to gear up for he infamous all night/all morning party that is Reykjaviks Friday and Saturday nights.
I had heard about the "rantur" which is the all out party that spills onto the streets that never get quite
Dark; drinks are taken around in public, people of all ages, high enough to reach the bar participate aNd there is a palpable sense of genuine excitement and curiosity in the city. Dressed to the teeth and out to kill as many beers as possible, icelanders take to the(every)bars like there was no tomorrow. What makes this so cool is how everyone is out to have a good time and be at their best... No bitchy, snobby attitudes did I encounter. No shields socially uptight qualms. Just unabashed debauchery. Nice! I like this. (as I write this it's middnight, Saturday and it's going off again.)

Dangerous, going out like that; things wrap up at about 6 or 7am and it's easy to loose track of time (or is that fun?)

Anyway, Saturday was nice; went to the flea market and got a cool hat made by an old lady, got some salami from a local meat shop for the trip up to the west fjords, nap and then oh you know, party hardy until 6am. Got some good video of that. Anyway it´s now time to set off out from the urban viking land and get into the wild. get some dried fish, and get on the road! can´t keep me away, baby.

i´m going to leave the hostel now, uploading a mobile me ZIP file. maybe a packet of photos will be online the next time i get WIFI to share with you. maybe.

love to all,
-e

SEA-KEF

2010-07-07T17:35:00.008+01:00

Hello there. Jetlagged and groggy, after a 2 hour nap. At least I think it was two hours... the sky is the same color it was at midday, and the wind continues to blow with a ferocity that isn´t known to Seattle, unless in a storm.

I arrived in Iceland, at 6'30am, local time. My emergency exit row seat was roomy, but with the sacrifice that the seat would not adjust, making sleep impossible. What good fortune I had, however, to be sitting next to one of the audio technicians who worked on Sigur Ros´ Iceland tour, Heima! That was a good omen, if I ever knew one.

Here´s a travel tip; check the exchange rate before you withdraw from a foreign ATM! That´s all I´ll say about that, save to say that I won´t be needing cash for the rest of this trip.

When in Iceland, do as the Icelanders do, and fill up on booze in the duty free shop, as it is 1.3rd the price of booze in a store! Even worse then the WA liquor board.

The bus from the airport brings you past a beautiful stark wasteland, something out of a Cormac Mccarthy novel, with lava fields springing up and sagebrush-looking land... quite a sight. And to be quite honest, Reykjavik on first impression is looking GRIM. As I hope I have captured here in these images. What with the jet lag and churning stomach and gray tones upon cream/beige/silver etc, it feels desolate and lonely. And that kind of sums up how I feel at the moment... can´t wait for the weekend when things liven up and when I set out on foot, into the wilderness.

Walking through the city is interesting though... it is truly unique, and has the feel of a small village. Down the main shopping street, where all the bars and cafes and restraunts live, there´s the smell of hardy meals being cooked and various fruits of the forest being sold. Kaffi joints abound and more mothers with strollers then you can count in a single block. At one particularly charming coffee shop, I ran into the guy I say next to on the plane! Really, a small town compared to an AMerican city. (btw the icelandic specific keyboard makes things weird to type in).

Anyway more later... this is a shared computer and I dont want to hog it all. ENjoy the pictures ( i hope they all load!)

THanks to my friends and family and all the loved ones for being there for me!

All the best!

-e

Look 'ere!

2010-07-01T00:22:00.003+01:00

These pictures of iceland...

... are not taken by me. But I will be taking some good ones!!! don't you worry.

-e

It's been a long time, gentle reader

2010-04-28T18:31:00.003+01:00

Yes, it has. Life progresses at a pace that is ambivalent to the practicalities of keeping up a blog, so I feel I must let you know that this blog is not going to be discontinues but... will by my repository for memories and experiences as I make them while traveling in Iceland this summer.

Ahh... Iceland. Just the name of it strikes fear into the hearts of the perpetually cold. The goal is there, months out but there and within reach. I got my tent sorted out, boots, 4X4 rented for the last week while I'm there, contacts being made through the good old internet. Ready to rock!!

Anyway must get back to funding my travel. Oh that's probably why I never post here anymore because I work a shitton and have hardly time to check email.

Ok then. Until next time...

best,
-e

You're done dead duck!

2009-02-27T07:13:00.003Z

Dear readers,

Actually a duck DID die the other day. It was killed, rather, by some marauding rodent; probably a opossum because I've seen one mucking about on the roof. It's sad, but also pretty good because there's less quacking. Actually there's JUST as much quacking then ever before, but ah well. More space for the other ducks. This must just be genetic selection! Ducks, you should NOT muck about with opossums!

love
-e

musical ramblings!

2009-02-03T04:48:00.001Z

http://public.me.com/ericsutherland

download sigurrosstyle. you'll notice its actually nothing to do with sigur ros. But kind of tipsy musical mucking about.

love

-e

This time it's real!

2008-11-05T23:30:00.002Z

Dear reader...

Thank you for voting. For Barack Obama.

this is a cool little thing to sign to show your support for the US... and if you don't sign it, you're unpatriotic and a terrorist!!

http://www.avaaz.org/en/million_messages_to_obama/98.php/?cl_tf_sign=1

love
-e

Monday, November 3rd, 2008

2008-11-04T06:37:00.002Z

Dear reader,

Along with showing courtesy and respect, has being polite also become accepted dishonesty?

Best,

-e

PS This is a rhetorical question.

HAHAHA swedish...

2008-11-02T00:20:00.001Z

Dear reader!

I find this REALLY amazingly funny for one reason or another... it reminds me of a good friend in Sweden. Watch...

love,
-e

NEW FILM!!! "A Change of Pace"

2008-10-26T09:24:00.004Z

Dear reader,

So, I have an idea for an art style... I'm sure its not a unique or original idea... but one where you create one-take art. Films that are rough, and have no real story or defined form. Paintings like Jackson Pollock, and films like Andy Warhol. Things that simply are, and sometimes they are good and sometimes they are not so good, but put together just for the same of being put together. I like this idea. Not only does it not take any work or effort at all, its fresh and raw and rough, and pushes people to ask "Is this amateur or amateurish?"

Here is my third film of this nature. The first two films are too long to be youtube'ed, and so if you know of any video hosting site that can upload videos longer then 15 minuets, let me know.

One of our chickens is deathly curious about everything, and if you leave a door open, interesting things happen.... watch:

This kind of art is devoid of the creator. There is no real creator, just someone who happens to be a vessel for what is happening around them. This is nice, because in the instance that the piece of "art" is bad or just doesn't work, then thats ok because you really have nothing to do with it, except sticking it together. If it is good, you get to seem humble, and polite. I can see this often in good musicians;... when they are always overly "aw, shucks" when you tell them something is very good, or when they are performing, there's no ego involved only a little "thanks you" between songs.

Hope you enjoy.

Love,
-e

Oh that Cheney!

2008-10-05T02:29:00.002+01:00

Dear Readers;

That Dick Cheney! He is something. Let's take a moment to remember the 8 fun-filled years with him. Below are a few of my favorite "Onionized" images of our favorite vice president.

Cheney Orders Motorcade To Gun It Over Half-Open Drawbridge

Cheney Clotheslines Aide

New Heart Device Allows Cheney To Experience Love

What a clowner!

All the best,
-E

Something to think about

2008-09-18T06:42:00.002+01:00

As I enjoy some older generations ramblings, I often hear that age old axiom of "You young people just don't... [X]". Lately it's been, "You young people don't care about what's going on in the world."

Here's a fun thought; the people who I hear say that are of another generation, of another time, who have set up a system of living and status quo that they wish to uphold, and through their progeny, expect them to uphold as well.

Has it ever occurred to them that a system with inherent flaws will never find a solution? That curing symptoms will never cause them to cease to exist?

Has it ever occurred to them that young people might not WANT their fantasy or idea of the world to exist? That it might simply not be worth fighting for?

Let the stocks tumble! Let the banks fall! And if the Fed decides to bail out financially irresponsible institutions, fuck it!, because I don't make enough money anyway to make a significant impact in helping to foot the $85B+ charges to the citizens of this country.

Anyway, to all you old people who occasionally bitch at me: You have stocks and money. You know I as a young person have the power to decide and change it so that you can keep those stocks and money. All I have to say is get your bartering and haggling skills up to par with what life has in store for you next. Get some camping gear. Learn to make fire. Eat things that have fallen on the ground/floor. You might not have the luxury of food in the future. And be nice to your children, because in the end, they'll be the ones choosing your nursing home.

Also, this whole rhetoric about "change". Change is going to happen. You can REgress and that'll be change. You can PROgress and that'll be change. So let's change the language to "Progress" instead of "change" which is just too vague for me.

Either way, I don't really want to live in the USA anymore. A fundamentally flawed idea is not an idea worth fighting for.

Love,
-e

Hornby Island and Radiohead Adventures

2008-08-27T04:18:00.002+01:00

DEAR READERS,

To say that the last few weeks of August were great would be a lie. To say it was fabulous would be a lie. To say that the last week has been one of the most mind bendingly good experiences of my life is getting closer to the truth that was and still is, the memories still lingering fresh in my mind like a fragrant sea breeze wafting into ones nostrils on a fresh, late summer day. My whole reality has been changed and shaped differently, the snow globe of my world shook up and only now am I seeing all those little snow flakes tumble down, waiting to see where they land.

The genesis of this whole plan was about last year, when I heard Radiohead was going on tour. As I woke up at 4am on a March day, aching to get my hands on some presale tickets, and then, realizing they were not on sale yet, I trucked my computer to my job, and waited until about 6:30am. While making coffee and bagging pastries, I managed to buy 4 Vancouver BC tickets. My best friend Jacob had gotten into the part of Radioheads website that allowed him to get two Seattle tickets and two Vancouver tickets. My attempt at getting tickets for that show had failed. Figuring I could either sell the tickets I got for Vancouver, or go to both shows, a plan formed.

At some point in my more recent past, me, my father and his family went to a place called Hornby Island; an island only accessible by boats. This place rung so true with me, it was one of those few times when I realized all my friends would love this as well. And so, with tickets for a show already in Canada, it would be only a slight jaunt to go camping there as well.

Fast forward in time, past the point where I bought two tickets for my parents as a gift (NON presale, lawn tickets mind you), and another friend had bought another Vancouver ticket and this was the situation: mid August. Seven Vancouver tickets. Four Seattle tickets. Three friends, passports, and a minivan full of camping gear, and this plan for Hornby Island was in motion.

If you haven’t heard me pitch Hornby to you in person, here it goes in stilted text: a hippie and organic/holistic oasis, with a 1/4th mile long South-east facing beach, covered with pure white sand and shallow blue green water, with everyone following up nicely to the stereotype of friendly Canadians, and not only all this, but the warmest swimming water in the Northwest. It might be cold for California, but this is damn warm water if you’re from the Northwest. That isn’t even all of the amazing things of the island, but if I pitch it too great, your expectations might just be a little low for what you experience when you actually arrive there.

I was tempted to write a play-by-play, dramatic interpretation of everything that happened on this trip. But no. Perhaps by painting little portraits you can put together the larger mosaic of what this whole thing was like. When you’ve had such an amazing experience (for me, at least) that you can’t possibly explain but say “you just had to be there”, using words just aren’t good enough. So I will go down point by point about some interesting and amazing things that I discovered, or rediscovered.
• There is something amazing about waking up outside, with nothing but the blue sky over your head and the sun baking you in your sleeping bag. We stayed only where we found fit, and no real campgrounds. No mosquitoes, no crazy bugs, and even though you were knackered from the last night of partying before, because you’re up with the sun, you’re ready! You’re awake and alive! You’re there, up with this part of the world! Yea! And what do you do? You go for a swim. Smoke a joint. Talk to the locals or fellow travelers, or make breakfast. Anything you want, really. I discovered the beauty of not sleeping in.

• Phosphorescence. Nothing like taking off all your clothes in the moon light, and like being reborn in chilly, but warm nighttime water, dunking in and opening your eyes to sparkling green, neon colors flashing before your eyes. Even as you wade in, those little zoo and phytoplankton, irritated by this intruder, light up and dance around, illuminating everything around them in incandescent clouds of green. Even in the sand, as you stomped your foot down, a circle of green would illuminate the shape of your foot and linger, as if you were in a dream and everywhere you walked you irradiated green dust at your feet.

• Canadian girls. For one reason or another, physical beauty is unnaturally prevalent north of the boarder. And what else can I say? Canadian girls know how to have a good time. That's the spirit, and you know me. I think I’ll marry a few, one day, thus helping complete my goal of having a wife in every country of the world. Lolz.

• Rainbows. We saw them. Two at the same time, actually, as the sun ducked below the clouds and gave us a natural fireworks display.

• Skim boarding. Best conditions I’ve ever seen on Hornsby island for skim boarding, and we got pretty good. (Insert stoner hippy laugh here)

• Organic, local pizza. This place was GOOD. A small bakery/boutique store on the main road serving the most amazing food, and in particular, the most amazing pizza I’ve had. I'm not a huge fan of pizza… all that crust, all that cheese, all the grease. Not a fan. But this stuff tasted like the pizza my parents make; food that really nourishes you! I was very pleased.

• Cheap real estate with dwellings already on the land. This was very tempting. As J, C and I drank our daily (not half bad) americano's in the town center/co-op area, the real estate “booth” or small office caught our eye a few times. Good prices of decent sized pieces of land, good prices for smaller sized pieces of land with a house or studio/house built on them… my mental wheels started turning.

• Again, an inordinate amount of natural beauty in the people of that part of the world. Seriously, what is going on??

• Doing NOTHING. “Oh heaven/heaven is a place/a place where nothing/nothing ever happens/It’s hard to imagine/that nothing at all/could be so exciting/could be this much fun.” – Talking Heads “Heaven”

I just want you all to know that I am moving to Hornsby Island. Me, and a bunch of my friends are going to band together and together, invest in a large piece of land, build a farm and co-op community and support ourselves as the oil based infrastructure collapses. We’ll raise animals and grow food and do our various art. All of us has all we need, sky of blue sea of green, in our yellow, submarine!

After the island experience, we left those islands to go see Radiohead in Vancouver… Which was by all means, a religious experience for me. Cause you know me! :-p
We got to the front somehow, about 4-5 rows back in the pit, and it was PACKED. At points, you could lift your feet up and be still standing. Amazing show though, just such a good, tight band. Hearing their studio stuff is one thing. And hearing their live recordings is another, but seeing and hearing that… it’s pretty unreal a band can be that good live. Thom Yorke yelled at crazy people in the crowd “Take it easy now guys…” and at a heckler in the crowd “Shut the fuck up. You teenagers don’t get out much” And at some moshers “who the fuck do you think we are? Rage Against the Machine??” It rained, especially hard at the “rain down” bit in Paranoid Android. SPEAKING OF WHICH, at the last encore Thom said “this is the last song… and ~*~*you the viewers~*~* get to pick the song..” People going nuts “… between, Idioteque” crowd going crazy “… or Paranoid Android.” Crowd going completely foaming-at-the-mouth bonkers. Then the played Paranoid Android. My favorite song J

The Seattle show was amazing and tight as well (big surprise for Radiohead). This show was with my Mom and stepfather, and Jacob and I pushed our way to basically the front of a very calm, spacious crowd. Although they were NOT happy with our pushing, they didn’t do anything about it but bitch in passive aggressive ways (typical Washingtonians). Great view, and watch this amazing clip:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HKAdZwiXQUQ

Enjoy the pictures. Hope you’re all well and great.

Love,
-e

EDIT: PICTURES COMING AS SOON AS I GET A MASS RESIZING TOON

Late time

2008-07-16T07:24:00.002+01:00

Dear Gentle Readers,

Well Summer is amazing. Its my favorite time of year. Apart from working, one of the more interesting things that's happened is that we had a chicken slaughter a couple Sundays ago at the house. I've grown up with poultry and seen slaughters before as a young kid, and it's entirely different when you slay an animal with your own hands. I killed the alpha rooster. It was pretty hard, but I got it done. Afterwards I roasted him with rosemary, olive oil, salt, lemon, onion, carrots and potatoes and he was delicious. My first roast chicken made by me: Raised, Loved, Killed, and Eaten by.

I will have pictures of these things and more.

All the best,
-e

Byrnein down the house!

2008-06-19T05:09:00.002+01:00

Chek this out, Dear Readers!

I want this to be my next instrument.

David Byrne never ceases to amaze me. Very interesting stuff. A friend of a friend once saw him walking down the street in Providence, Rhode Island with two statuesque women on his arms and the guy said "Hey, whats up?" and Mr. Byrne said "Livin' large, my friend, livin' large."

Sounds like he got some wild, wild life.

love
-e

Cheese and Quackers Party

2008-06-13T04:59:00.003+01:00

Dear readers!

So... its been a while, I understand. I also understand the loss you've felt and the empty space in the shape of Eric's blog that no doubt has been forged in your heart. But now is a time to rejoice, because there's good news afoot.

We, at the Burke house, now have 11 baby runner ducks in our midst! Their cuteness is beyond extreme, and boarder line sickening. I love them a lot, as I love all poultry.

In honor of this, we're throwing a "Cheese and Quackers" party, Friday June 12th, from 6pm-10pm. To RSVP to the Cheese and Quackers Party please click on the following URL: http://mobaganda.com/cheesequackersparty

Bring lots of people. There will be a very large pot of soup here as well. Bring whatever you wish, cause this'll be fun and we'll be able to play with chickens and ducks and eachother. And maybe drink homemade moonshine.

And best of all, you can come talk to me!

love you all,

-e

EDIT: View cuteness here:

House Party

2008-05-18T08:58:00.002+01:00

Dearest Gentle Readers,

HOUSE PARTYY WOOOT! Ok so, Theres a house party at... yes, the house on the 21st. I'd love to see anyone and everyone I know, and thats a fact! So if you know me and would like any/all of the following:
Meet the new housemates.
Fondle chickens.
Eat Rhubarb curry.
Eat Rhubarb pie.
Drink Rhubarb moonshine.
Make music.

Then this party is for you. Let me know that I know you (cause i'm not posting any juicy details on here) and then I'll email/call you with details.

All the best, hope to see you soon,

-e

Ask and ye shall receive

2008-05-14T01:51:00.003+01:00

Dear Readers!!

Things are going very well. I am all moved into my house in Wallingford and almost all set up. I still have to pain the room and do some finishing touches, but things are good. The chickens at this place are amazing, and it reminds me of being little and spending loads of time with them. Although I don't chill out for hours on end in their coup (teehee) I still give them plenty of cuddles.

Gene (owner of the house) and I made paella the other night, and I've had many good dishes since. We've also started the fermentation process for some rhubarb hooch.

I'm also very pleased with my housemates.. great people to live with. Today, Brian and I (raw foods chef housemate) took a run around Green lake. As we were walking back up 55th, into Meridian, we stopped at Zoka coffee, on the hypothesis that we could make a very basic exchange for some of our time and energy in exchange for some minimal foodstuffs. He guy, being pretty cool, did the math and told us that a bagel would be about 20 minutes of work. I was like "yeahh! totally, lets work for a bagel!" and he was like "naw naw man, i'm overstaffed as it is. but here... wait a sec..." so he went into the back and brought out a sandwich! "heres a two day old sandwich! good for a snacky-snack!" and first, I was surprised that he said "snacky-snack" but also surprised that we even got anything! Great success.

I am working at a cupcake/coffee place called Trophy Cupcakes, and its actually not bad. Easy work, and I'm one of the 2% of people who work there who almost balance out the estrogen levels in the place. Its also 3 min. walking from my house, which is super handy.

In any case... There will be many fun times in this place. I hope I see all my people in Seattle much more then I did when I was over on the other side.

Love you all!

best,
-e

Ledgneary was the Xanadu, where Kubla Kahn decreed his stately pleasure dome

2008-05-01T06:19:00.001+01:00

Dear G R'z,

I am moving to Wallingford! Scrambling to pull money together for first months rent, and to get a job also. Several good prospects, and I feel excellent about this move. There will be many opportunities in Seattle for me.

I have an interview with Bad Animals (): an audio/music post production and design/synthesis house. Should be really awesome... wish me luck.

Love to all, I'll write again soon when all this moving madness is over.

Best,

-e

RE: RADIOHEAD TICKETS! PLEASE READ

2008-04-26T05:11:00.001+01:00

(this is a note I posted on Facebook, so if you don't have facebook and happen to read my blog, here you are)

Dear friends,

This note is mainly for the people who are in the Pacific Northwest area.

OK people, so you've heard me blabbing on and on about the upcoming Radiohead tour to our area. Ok... HERE'S THE DEAL:

My colleague Jacob and I have 6 tickets for VANCOUVER all together. We got these off a radiohead.com presale, so they were $70 rather then upwards of $300. Two of them are for Jacob and I, so that leaves 4 (only FOUR) extra for people who want to come. I will be selling these tickets AT the price I got them, so I'm not screwing you over or anything, and its gunna be REALLY fun and everyone will have a great experience.

NOW... heres another part of the deal:

We are not just jumping up to Vancouver and then back again. We are getting lots people and resources together for a few days before hand, and going up to Port Angeles, taking a ferry to BC (get your passports ready and ditch your drugs at the boarder cause there will be plenty where we're goin-i mean er um), and driving about 50+ miles up to a place called HORNBY ISLAND. (http://www.hornbyisland.com)
This place is a paradise like you've never seen in the Gulf Islands. Like Indianola, or Bainbridge island the way it used to be 30 years ago, Hornby is still a small community of alternative, informed and hippy-esque people. (and a disproportionate amount of beautiful women) Theres a post office, grocery store... and thats about it, I think. There's a mile long cresent-moon shaped shallow water beach, so when the tide goes out in the morning, the sun heats it up during the day and when it comes back in again, the water is damn warm for night swimming. The water is a clear blue/green, and the sand is PURE white and super fine to the touch. Beautiful people stride in the hot summer sun, and theres camp grounds and a mobile taco stand right off the beach. Every night, tons of the local and visiting young people make bond fires and chill out on the beach. Theres also PRIME skim-boarding there. Have I sold this place to you enough? In a word, this place ROCKS. Its beautiful, and not too crazy/touristy because you actually have to go out of your way to get there.

Anyway, the plan is to go up there for a few days, then get a BC ferry to Vancouver in time for the Radiohead show. Does this not sound like an awesome time? Even if you dont have/get tickets to the RH show, I think you should still come to this place, because its truly amazing.

Now.. onto the next point:
I know all you, my dear friends, on some level, want see Radiohead, and you've all expressed to me that you would really like to go to this show. But realize that I've only got 4 extra tickets, which creates a small problem for me. I want to take you all, but I just can't, and I also can't bring myself to pick and choose those of you who I want to come more then anyone else, because I all want you to come see them live, cause its an amazing thing, seeing this band!

So after some counsel and soul searching, I've decided, this is how you're can get your ticket from me at non-scalped price:

THE FIRST 4 PEOPLE WHO ACTUALLY GIVE ME $70 DOLLARS, WILL GET A TICKET.

Its that simple. If you truly wanna see them, you gatta step up and fight for your right to party AT THE FRONT OF THE BARRIER, IN THE ARMS OF THOM YORKE.

OK, so, I need to be clear that: if you buy a ticket from me, you HAVE to come camping with us. I know, I know, "wah wah wah you're mean, eric" As my dad would say, "just get over it." :) (I'm also keeping all the tickets nice and safe in my bra for the whole trip.)

So you also will have to come camping. Ok? Thats commitment, baby!

Ok, thats it, and thats how this is gunna work. I love you all equally. If you're feeling adventurous, you can not get a ticket, and come to the venue and try to get one (or sneak in, which if you are successful, will be an even more awesome story,) or just come anyway! either way, we're gunna have an amazing time! we'll be making memories we'll never forget! How priceless is that?!? :)

Here are the dates/plan:

(tentatively)
• Drive to Hornby: August Thursday, 14

• Leave Hornby in afternoon, Monday, 18th, get to Vancouver (hostel?)

• Tuesday 19th: RADIOHEAD DAY. I get up super early and start camping out at front of venue. I run to front barrier. Anyone wanna run too?

• Wednesday (early morning), 20th: leave for Seattle. Drop people off in city, at ferry, etc. Jacob and I and any other dare-devils go to Auburn to see the next Radiohead show.

If we wanna camp longer/shorter, we can discuss that. Anyway, I want everyone I know to come, because this could be really really fun, and if we plan it out in advance, we wouldn't have to worry that much about money and rushing and whatnot.

(Also, if there are people who just wanna designate a car for just the camping and partying in Vancouver, and not Radiohead, thats totally cool too, and you can just come back to WA whenever you feel like it.)

OK whew. That's a lot.

So remember, if you wanna come onboard this brill plan and get a Radiohead ticket for REALLY cheap, you need to physically, or actually give me $70 dollars, and then i'll make sure you get one of those 4 tickets because I know you're committed to it.

Alright... I think thats all.
Email/call/IM if you have any kwezchunz.

Love love love-

-e

Paradox of the hour

2008-04-19T06:37:00.003+01:00

Dear Gentle Readerz:

I was thinking today, and heres the question I thought of, and subsequent title to my new self-help book/memoir I'm going to write: "How to Not Give a Shit and Still Get What You Want" :-p

But it is an interesting question... How do you relax and not become attached to and outcome, and yet still WANT something, and STRIVE for those things (goals, items, feelings, etc) that you want? Is this not what goal setting and the idea of success IS? To be attached to an outcome? So then... the question is; What is the difference between striving SO hard for something that the more you strive, the more it illudes you.. And the opposite of something, where you dedicate yourself 150% to an idea or a goal, or a desired outcome, and then you get it?

I don't have an answer to these questions. The extremes in my mind, are: "Don't care at all and it will come to you" and "Go for it with all your being, and it'll come to you".

A paradox, if you ask me!

In other news, I got an interview coming up with an audio post production company in Seattle! I'm excited about that. I have a lot of people to thank for is (well two, actually). I might get an internship there. Thats what I want. And tonight, I ran live sound at a local concert! It was exciting, and I minimized feedback and had my hands on the board at ALL times. :D

The live monitor engineer for Radiohead posted a FULL detailed spec of their equipment and stage set up. It's intense... For those interested, here is the blog posting. Its pretty packed with technical stuff of course, but super cool, in my opinion. Hopefully you can see that without having to have a myspace account.

Tomorrow I'm going into the city to look at a house on Greenlake. I will let you know of the possibilities when I get them....

Love to all, and sorry if I've seemed a bit emo and wrist-cutty with those last posts. But I'm not really sorry. This blog shit is good therapy sometimes! :)

okBYEBYE!!

love

-e

onions make me cry

2008-04-14T03:09:00.002+01:00

Dear Readers.

I am constantly impressed by the Onion. The finest news source in all of Christendom! Here are some of my favorite front pages of their "sunday magazine", cousin of the NY Times sunday mag. Enjoy.

and my favorite of all:

Be well. And remember, believe 1/2 of what you see and NONE of what you hear. :)

love
-e

I'm as mad as hell and I'm not gunna take it anymore!

2008-04-13T22:59:00.002+01:00

dear gentle reader,

I'm like sooo mellow. I'm like a jack johnson song, in human form.

OK but I'm writing this to put myself on the line and fearlessly, put a part of myself that I've kept very close to me (except only with good friends) out to the world. I once heard that, "the more personal, the more universal" and so it is with this, I believe. And many other young men like me.

Last night, I have a positive breakdown and "therapy" session with some very good family friends. I'll relate to you the cause of this:

The thing that triggered my whole 'break down' last night was the fact that i saw the HOTTEST barista last night.. just a beautiful girl in many ways (from the limited interaction I had with her) and I was really stunned and taken aback, and then the friend I was with was like "yea, shes got like a year long ugly, idiotic boyfriend" and it created such a conflict in me that it just felt like from my loins, the put of my stomach, to my forehead were this burning, boiling , conflicted acid vat. It just made me want to be a monk so i wouldn't have that conflict.

But also the fact that its like this.. 1.) see a beautiful girl 2.) say "i want her" 3.) THEN all those voices start talking to you and giving you reasons and excuses why you shouldn't... but the side that wants her fights against it, and you hesitate and thats unattractive and women can feel that 3.) you bitch out, or like last night, find out about some boyfriend and beat yourself up, and start to wonder what's so fundimentally wrong with YOU 4.) vicious, downward spiral starts.. and you either gatta get so mad that you destroy those ffeelings and move on with your new found power, or let it eat you from the inside out and REALLY sabotage yourself.

Ok, there you go. Musings of a young man. wah wah wah. the end.

Now, what would it be like if men had magazines that were like Cosmo but geared for men? It's as if the guides for women are quite accepted, and if a dude wants to figure out this area of his life, all this "inner" stuff, then he's got to do it in secret, otherwise OH NO! YOU'RE A CREEP! A WIERDO! OR YOU'RE SO FABULOUS I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'D BE GETTING INTO THAT STUFF YOU DONT HAVE THAT PART OF YOUR LIFE HANDLED?? DUDE WHATS WRONG WITH YOU?!

Is it impossible to think that if you got those kinds of responses to your personal development persuits all the time that you'd become a bit frustrated and callused to the world?

.... But luckily I'm not burdened with that. I consider myself eternally greatful and lucky to be surrounded by supportive, loving, caring people who understand these things, and understand the broader picture.

I've noticed a lot of people in life, in their interactions, or in their interactions with me can be quite mean spirited and angry to eachother, all as a defense mechanism for protecting themselves. Yet at the same time, it's interesting to realize that it has nothing to do with me, but rather the lack of positive influences and role models in their life that they probably crave.

Which brings me to another point of great importance:

How many well put together, emotionally in touch, strong, motivated, positive, beautiful, attractive, fun, energetic women have you met in your life, or even simply seen for that matter? I'm willing to bet that that number you have in your head is MUCH higher then the amount of men you've known who are equally emotionally in touch, strong, motivated, positive, handsome, attractive etc etc....

I can probably count on one hand, the men I've met in my life who I can call real mature, masculine men. Men who have realized their true power, their true essence and embraced it with such dignity and grace that EVERYONE around them feels uplifted and empowered by being around them... like they're a magnate. And also a magnate for attractive women ;)

This is an interesting observation, because if we notice all the beautiful women in the world, and the lack of "real" men, it puts being a young man like me in an interesting position. That voice-of-knowing in my head now makes me realize that in my conscious, rigorous peronsal developmental persuits, that I have the capability of becoming the most capable, strong person I know. Yet the depressing fact of the matter, is that on a whole, I believe we men hold ourselves in such low regard that we sabotage ourselves for any opportunity to fully realize our true potential.

The simple fact of the matter is that we by nature, have this essence in us that is SO needed in the world today-

Feminist: NOW JUST WAIT A SECOND, ERIC!! Men are essentially the reason the world is in the state it is today: the aggrigate action and collection of all masculine thought manifested into one, global MESS!

Why thank you for pointing this out, you're absolutely right. These men might be physically men, but are they emotionally, mentally, spiritually mature men? My guess is that they're not, and that you don't think so either. Is George W. Bush a man that people all over the world aspire to be like? Are magnetically attracted to because of his charisma and personal power? Unless you're pretty diluted, I hallucinate that you're not.

Heres a good technique to test if the man you're interacting with (on any level) is an upstanding man. "Hmm, do I feel at a guy level that this guy is someone I enjoy being around?" If the answer is yes, then you know the answer. If the answer is no, then you know the other answer.

It is strange, that I started this whole post talking about a hot barista that I felt attracted to. And yet to get to the bottom of it, there was all this complex "drivel" that had to be plowed to in order to touch that deepest essence that could in the end, touch her and show her what an amazing person I am. It's as if the highway from your heart, to your worldly interaction needs to be clear, straight, and free of obstructions. And if the path to your drive, and passion, and true nature has twists and turns and road blocks and crashes in it, then until you straighten that shit out, you'll never be able to communicate to your fellow human beings in the way that effectively demonstrates the wonderful nature that MUST be in all of us.

So listen, if any negative people are reading this, (and indeed I have to remind myself of this from time to time): the next time you judge or put someone down, remember that they're just as human as you. That whatever negative thing you see in them is just another side of yourself that you are PROJECTING onto them, and that everyone is made up of the same psycological, emotional, basic human needs, stuff.

You're just as human as I am. I'm just as human as you are. When you think about it like that, we're kind of in this thing together.

"We are here to awaken from the illusion of our separateness." – Thich Nhat Hanh

And THAT, ladies and gentleman of the great big world over, is my personal stuff that I've shared with you. Chew this cud at your will.

Until next time, this is GDE, figuring stuff out.

Love, peace ALWAYS, baby

-e

EDITORS NOTE: this post was not edited in anyway, and retains all the original grammatical/spelling errors of a stream of consciousness contained therein.

fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa far better

2008-04-13T22:02:00.002+01:00

Dear Gentle R'dr,
In response to my sisters beautiful comment, I'm reminded of a Talking Heads song...

Enjoy.

-e

PS (Although I have to disagree with the part about the "pick up artists", Molly... if you were me, having had the experiences I'd had in my life to that point and under the same circumstances, you'd listen to advice like that with an open and curious ear as well.)

PULLED UP, by Talking Heads:

Mommy, Daddy, come and look at me now
I'm a big man in a great big town
Years ago who would believe it's true
Goes to show what a little faith can do

I was complaining, I was down in the dumps
I feel so strong now 'cause you pulled me up!
Pull me up up up up up up up up

I slipped, and I got pulled
Pulled up, I tripped, and then you pulled,
you pulled me up
I slipped, and I got pulled,
Pulled up, I slipped, and then you pulled,
you pulled me up pull me up pull me up...
Pulled me up up up up up up up up

I drift away to another land
Sleeping dreaming such a simple thing
I think of things that I might be
I see my name go down in history

I was complaining, I was down in the dumps
I feel so strong now 'cause you pulled me up!
Pull me up up up up up up up up
I slipped, and I got pulled,
pulled up, I tripped, and then you pulled,
you pulled me up
I tripped, and I got pulled
Pulled up, I slipped, and then you pulled
you pulled me up! Pulled me up up, Pulled me up...
Pulled me up up up up up up up up

I got up
'cause you pulled me up
I stood up
'cause you pulled me up
I got up
And that was because you pulled me up
I got up
In a little while you pulled me up
Pull me up up up up, up up up up!
Pull me up up up up up up up up!

I cast a shadow on the living-room wall
Dark and savage with a profile so sharp
Keep that wonderful food on the table
There's really no hurry I'll eat in a while

I was complaining, I was down in the dumps
I feel so strong now 'cause you pulled me up!
Pull me up up up up up up up up!
I slipped, and I got pulled
Pulled up, I tripped, and then you pulled,
you pulled me up
I slipped, and I got pulled
Pulled Up, I slipped,
And then you pulled, you pulled me up!
Pull me up...Pull me up...Watch out!
Pull me up up up up up up up up!
Pull me up up up up up up up up!
Pull me up up up up up up up up!

Nothing either good nor bad

2008-04-02T23:24:00.004+01:00

Dear gentle readerz.

Here's something i made:

lolololololol

I've been in a bigggg depression lately. I'll spare you the gratuitous , self-absorbed tedium that goes along with posts about depression, but mainly theres been a LOT OF ANTHONY ROBBINS FLYING AROUND MY CAR SPEAKERS LATELY :-p *pacino voice* ohh funny! Speaking of, Deniro and Pacino are type cast together in a typically new york-italian badass flick called "Righteous Kill".

Ok so, that movie title sounds to me like if the "Halo" video games were actually super RELIGIOUS, and if your priest character lyke, totally just blew away 4 Arab martyrs, or Wiccan High Priestess, the omnipresent godlike announcer would say in the booming deep voice: "RIGHTEOUS KILLLL!!!!"

Ok but anyway... I've been thinking... whenever I talk to people about being down, or demotivated, or depressed, the common thing I get back is "What will make you FEEL better?" or, "how can you just feel better?" or... i dunno, anything involving the word "FEEL". I cannot stand this. This is such a misnomer... first off:

To FEEL, is not a serious reason or argument at all, in my opinion. Loads of people FEEL they're Napoleon. People FEEL god. People FEEL good. Drug addicts FEEL good when they're high. Does this imply that simply feeling good means you ARE good?

The Drug addiction thing is a perfect example. I can't take people seriously who say "Oh I just like to feel good". Well that dosen't really say anything about your state of well being. If I have a gaping wound in my leg, and i say "OHIJUSTWANNAFEELGOODGIVEMETHEMORPHINE!" then yes, i might feel fine. the pain will cease to be.

But does that mean it dosen't EXIST? Does that mean that by simply feeling no pain, that I am now all of the sudden better?? Of course not!! You've just cured the symptom, not the problem. So what I've been realizing, is that the advice of most people in matters of deep psycology cannot be taken so litterally all the time.. maybe i've been naive in thinking that everyone is wiser then me. Because I now can tell that sometimes they just dont know what they're talking about, becuase they either A.) Don't have any empathy for what I'm trying to communicate to them, or B.) They dont even have themselves worked out very well, and how can you describe whats outside a box if you're stuck IN a box?

Anyway... These are some thoughts. Thank you.

Love,
-e

I've been a bad bad blogger

2008-03-16T19:36:00.002Z

Gentle Readers,

As you know, I’ve been quite lax at keeping this thing up to date in the usual style of blogging. There has really not been that much going on in my life lately, and thus, not much to blog about. Here are a few details:

I’ve been trying to land a job at Carlson Audio; the big audio production company in Seattle. They set up sound systems for Bumbershoot, Sasquatch Festival, corporate gigs, etc. No joy yet. I think I’ve just got to keep making myself known there.

I went and saw Ladysmith Black Mambazo at the Moore Theater the other day. Fun show, good stuff.

I'm writing my first REAL song. It’s called “Don’t Wear Black To My Funeral”. You will all by privy to it when it’s done.

Apart form that… there's just been a lot of fighting depression and keeping “optimistic”. I know I have a goal and master plan, but I forget it from time to time and get depressed. Kind of like when you’re at the bottom of a mountain, and instead of concentrating on those first steps UP, you just see the whole mountain and kind of despair. That's not really a good metaphor because if knew that if I saw the whole mountain, I’d be excited and want to climb it more.

Basically, until there is something worthy of writing about, nothing else will go on this blog. That's why it’s been so ~*~*silent*~*~ around here lately.

Onto other things, I saw a movie called the Mothman Prophecies last night, and I knew I had seen it before but didn’t remember how much it freaked me out. In a cool way though… in a , “I want to meet a being of consciousness too!” way.

So, just keep in mind that I still love ya’ll and am trying to make the best of it so that I actually do got some stuff to talk about when you read this place again.

Luv.

-e

I L Y

2008-01-31T06:33:00.000Z

BWAAA!!!

LOVE
-e

OK PEOPLE

2008-01-24T19:54:00.000Z

Update:

Still doing Jury duty... I laugh a lot whenever the judge sends us out. For some reason I get a sarcastic sense of victory because of it. I know. I'm not a well person.

What else... Still kind of job hunting but I've narrowed my searching down to a few goals and companies. Or at least specific kinds of companies: audio production studios and A/V companies. Let me know what you got.

Ok... If I think of anything else of interest, I'll let ya'll know!

Ruv yew, ruv yew!

-e

"raeppaer lliw I ,yad eno ,emit fo tnuoma etinifni na nI"

2008-01-17T20:06:00.000Z

Dear Reedrrs,

Today during a courtroom recess, I found a website where you can send yourself an email time-capsule (http://www.bored.com/emailcapsules/). This is what I wrote:

"Dear Future Version of Me,

Hello. I hope you are doing as well as I hope now that you will. As of this moment, I am listening to "Say the Word (aka c minor song)" by Radiohead. Sitting in a jury room, listening to a trial. I dont even know if this email will get through, assuming I stop using this email address. In my life, I have returned from the Netherlands, and am fairly angry and unsure about what I will do. I know I need to get a degree... by the time I read this in the future, I will have that degree. I hope that I will also have a good job, or a fulfilling one at least. Actor, voiceover artist, film maker, producer, audio engineer, or rock star would all be preferable. If I dont have any of these occupations and am not fulfilled, then I am very disappointed. But I cannot criticize. I cannot complain because I do not know what has happened between now and when I will read this, so the point is irrelevant. The only thing is that I hope you're happy, doing what you are. I hope that you've taken the appropriate steps to finding that happiness and fulfillment and that your efforts have come to fruition. Giving advice to an older self is like giving advice to an older person.. but also like coaching myself and setting some observing ego. So... for everything thats happened everything that is happening for you/me, and everything that will happen, make it good. Life is fleeting in this universe... everything is temporary... and everything we do will be forgotten at some point. But... as all the matter in our plane of existence dissipates, "In an infinite amount of time, one day, I will reappear", as physicist Katherine Freese of Michigan University once put it. T.S. Elliott: "…the past and future/Are conquered, and reconciled".

So be it. Enjoy all it has to offer, because in the end, you don't have to be attached to anything, but involved in active detachment.

Love,
-Eric"

Best,
-e

One more thing, "Friendo"

2008-01-15T05:28:00.000Z

One more thing, I need to apologize if you are an avid reader of After Just Now; I've been a lazy blogger, I know. But I applaud you for letting your mouse swing in this direction! To the Irish constituency, to my missed friends in the Netherlands, to the American constituency and all the people reading this who I dont know but would really love to get to know, the award goes to you!

love
-e

tanks, sheeee???

Hello... "Friendo"

2008-01-15T04:10:00.000Z

Hey readers! (you ARE a reader if you're reading this, yes?)

I would prefer if my blog didn’t become a repository of the afterbirth from impatient, misled, pessimistic thoughts, so I’ll do my best. In his book, “How to Win Friends and Influence People”, Dale Carnegie outlines many different time tested guidelines for the very subject, the number one being “Never Condemn, complain or criticize”. Try NOT complaining about ANYTHING for a week. Try not criticizing anyone for anything. Its damn hard, actually, if you’re a person like me who gets a certain sarcastic sense of pleasure from certain kinds of criticism. But it is sound advice. I notice the strong, powerful people in my life never whine, bitch or complain about anything. I’ve never heard my father complain or criticize ever. But, I suppose that you become the most powerful when you know WHEN to break the laws and rules of life.

So… Without complaint, pessimism, or impatience, my life is fine. Really now, what DO you have to complain about? Are we ever justified in that kind of self-indulgence?

Here are a couple things I’ve been thinking about…
First, on art and the mentality of art making:
• I would much rather believe my art/music is bad, sloppy, inferior and/or substandard and have it be ACTUALLY good, rather then believe that it’s amazing stuff and be one of those people who is the brunt of the joke behind his back that his stuff isn’t actually that good. Keeping your expectations realistic keep you from becoming egocentric and relieve you of the responsibility imposed on you by other people who believe you to be “great” or the art you make “beautiful”. It also takes all the pressure off you when you create something new; because it’s not “important” and you’re just experimenting, none of your demons who judge you when you take something seriously are there, because in your mind, you’ve disregarded it as serious art. Does Radiohead think this way, consciously or not? Can you learn creativity, or is it just another you-got-it-or-you-don’t thing? I’ve been enamored with rock music for some time now… realizing that it has the ability to be a serious artistic expression, and also a mindless catharsis that sets free our primitive passions and instincts. The physicality of a rock concert is an amazing thing. The beauty of music that you cannot play in a dance club is fully realized when you see it performed on stage, at thunderous volumes and accompanied with gaudy imagery and visuals. This is something that I believe is profoundly lacking in classical music. Ok, yes, in the 1800’s they didn’t have lights and lasers and smoke machines and speakers and all that jazz, ok, But keep things in context and perspective… we have all that stuff now. Think about how amazing it would be if an orchestra was mic’ed up, amplified and mixed, with an entire Sigur Rós style light show playing Beethoven’s 5th. THAT would be powerful. But would it be too powerful?
Do older people gravitate towards classical music more because it transcends the physical sex drive that is intertwined with rock music? Because in that part of their life, they’ve already fully experienced that ancient urge in their younger years and are looking for something with a bit more refinement? Hmm. Do people my age and younger hesitate when confronted with the possibility of classical music because it simply does not deliver or allow the release of the beast inside? Yea, yeah, I hear you now… “But I'm young and I like classical music! Wah wah wah” well so do I! Yet the generalization is accurate; don’t kill the messenger. I question this stuff because I question my own gravitation towards classical music and rock music; two years ago, I’d scoff at anything on the radio or that consisted of a 3-4 minute song. The Stravinsky piece, The Rite of Spring is stunning on a fundamental level because in a way, it IS that rock-music side of the human experience brought into the concert hall; loud, ugly, harsh, unrelenting, and again, loud.
And now, my constant harping about my favorite bands continues: Radiohead. Sigur Rós. Radiohead’s breadth of musical style-dabbling creates a great concert, due to the fact that they can play some breezy pop songs, stuff about love and with a hint of “yeah yeah” in the middle, and then play songs like The Bends, Fake Plastic Trees, Paranoid Android and then play Kid A, Morning Bell, or Pyramid Song back to back and cover HUGE emotional ground. One moment, you’re rocking out. The next, you’re pondering all sorts of strange philosophical things or feeling really depressed. Then you come back to the fact that even their breezy pop songs are REALLY good! What the hell? How is that possible? For the bizarre intellectual stuff to be on par with the breezy pop songs. Is it learned or is it another case of “you either got it or you don't”?
Then Sigur Rós. The most beautiful concert I’ve seen. They don’t speak at all in-between their songs. The set has definite emotional pacing, unlike Radiohead. The best way I can describe Sigur Rós live is like going to see an extremely loud opera; the visuals are so beautiful and creative, not effect is used more then once without good reason. Their music is extremely esoteric, unlike any tambres and textures you’ve ever hear, but with a fundamental basis of classical and pop music; musicality that you’ve come to expect and that your ear is used to. Their cake is the same, but their frosting is unlike anything your ear has ever tasted. Melancholic, sweeping music pours over at high volume, so it is just as physical as Radiohead, yet entwined in their style is somber beauty; almost the opposite of pop music. Learned? Or you got it or you don't?

And next, on wisdom, passed down:
• Axioms will only be understood by outcasts who no one listens to anyway, or older people who give out the advice to bewildered young people, who in time become old people who understand those axioms that were told to them by their elders when they were young, only to tell it to another young generation who doesn't understand it, and thus continues the cycle of misunderstanding.

I'm also on jury duty. My mum pointed out that its interesting how much of a test living in the Netherlands was for me, and as soon as I get back to the states, the first thing I have to do is jury duty. PATIENCE, PATIENCE, PATIENCE. I thought I knew about boredom, or what boredom was. I was wrong. Today I have experienced TRUE boredom. I'm instructed by the judge to not talk about the details of the case, and of course you aren’t privy to all the ~*~*~juicy~*~*~ details, but I can tell you with comfort that I have never been so bored in my life. Hours of testimony about the same questions, and the same tedium that we were subject to last week…
Unbelievable.

I find it hard to understand why Hollywood would want to romanticize such an absolutely mind-numbingly monotonous process and turn it into something like Law and Order, which is a well-done show. Yet isn’t that lying in like the first degree? From what you see on those shows you’re seeing really interesting stuff, and the jury panel ISN’T a bunch of white hicks and consumerists, but a wide array of life, collected in good confidence that they will, faithfully perform their duty as impartial, unsympathetic observers; arbiters of what the facts are. The judge is the arbiter of the law. The lawyers, the projectors of truth, as spun by either plaintiff or defendant. The important thing is that truth is rooted in personal experience, opinion and bias, and fact is confirmable evidence as observed or easily replicated by 1st, 2nd, and 3rd parties. The “truth” then becomes the frosting on the cake after fact… frosting that can either compliment the cake, thus making an argument congruent, or a distasteful, overpowering and convincing counter-cake effect.

To this end or not, on Saturday, I went into Seattle with my dad and saw one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen: Radiohead laser show! It was stunning. One of the coolest things I’ve seen in a long, long time. I was tripping out without the help of any outside substances, so I can only imagine how crazy it must have been for all the stoners.

Alright… enough drivel. It’s time to get back “to it”, what ever “it” is.

Love to all.

-e

GIF TEST GRRRR ASLKDJAKLSFJDH

2008-01-08T02:20:00.000Z

testing a gif, gd-it.

Correction

2008-01-07T20:20:00.000Z

Dear readers,

The housewife of my ex-housemate informed me that it was infact my housemate Chrisje who planned my going away surprise party! One that I will always look back on with fondness.

In other news, there are LOTS more learn English videos for Japanese people. Here is another:

Best to all,
-e

New Test

2008-01-06T23:58:00.000Z

Hello People!

I recently received a MOTU recording device... basically its a mixer a digital audio interface all in one. Meaning, I can take the sound I make, put it into my computer and then edit it into "professional" sounding stuff. Great success.

http://download.yousendit.com/87005DE36A795DF0

This is my cover of a Radiohead song called True Love Waits. Let me know what you think!

all the best,
-e

PS anyone want to help me invest in a pop-screen and microphone stand for me? :)

new post

2007-12-31T03:17:00.000Z

Hello there,

Now that I'm not a part of the Netherlands, and now that the holidays are over, I realize I tried to post some posts but all in vain. But I think thats good, cause that means I've been doing lots of other things! Like planning my future, which includes acting and acting in film, and all sorts of good stuff of that nature. Audio design has now stepped to the forefront, because my parents have just gotten me a MOTU Ultralite, which is a digital audio interface. That means that I can now take sound from an outside source (guitar, keyboard, etc) and record it into my computer. Great success for the quality of recordings I will now be producing.

In the meantime, I will stop writing about my life and live it. Soon, there will be good ideas to spread, and things to write about.
Heres nice pictures:

Best,
-E!

Standing on the edge

2007-12-11T20:04:00.001Z

Dear reader,

It's the eve of my departure from the Netherlands, and after a very chaotic day, I'm packed up. Strange week, this has been... drama that I've detached myself from and busy upon busy, paper work, things to tie up, loose ends... etc. But now I'm ready, and confident that this new section of my life will be very good. It's strange, knowing how suddenly and quickly your reality is going to change... one minute you're there, the next, you're not. As humans go, I don't think we're meant to change our lives this quickly; one thing on one side of the world, the next thing you know, you're on the other side of the planet.

Two days ago I witnessed an unfortunate event: I was walking to the post office with a package when a few meters in front of me, an old woman tripped and fell into the street. This was not a graceful fall, it was a face planting, eat-the-pavement style fall. I heard that sickening flesh hitting something hard sound and I knew it wasn't going to be good, so I put the package down, ran over to her. When I turned her over, blood was already streaming out from a gash in her throat and a deep cut on her chin... not a happy picture. She was in shock, I was a bit in shock because I didn't know the Dutch "911" [turns out its 112] but I called over to some nearby construction workers who came over and spoke English, and they called an ambulance. With my limited garage-sale-style medical knowledge, I propped her head up and took one of the constructions workers coat that he'd brought over, and put it over her to keep her warm. Unfortunately I didn't have any napkins or kleenexes in my pocket to try and stop some of the bleeding. By that time a police car came by and took care of the situation. They asked me what happened, I told them, and then they said I could be on my way. I felt really bad for her :(

Now is the time I realize what I'll miss about the Netherlands; not the places, but the people. The good people I know, even the not so good ones. They've all contributed their part to make up this whole big experience of mine. I'm quite glad about that. Last Saturday, Wouter sneakily planned a surprise going away party for me, which was great fun. If you know me, I'm HORRIBLE with reading into surprises, and looking back on it, the signs that there was going to be a party were so obvious. I remember once my mom wrapping a Christmas present in front of me, me asking what it was and who it was for, and then on Christmas, opening it up and being totally surprised. Maybe my mind is a bit gone! No dancers came to the party, though. Which solidifies my and Wouters theory that dancers are flakey, crazy and generally unreliable.

Last week, my good friend Katrien and I went by her car to Antwerp. Antwerp is such a beautiful, cultural place; it was stunning to go from the industrial, residential "glory" of Tilburg to such a beautiful, old town like Antwerp. There we looked at the sights, had Belgian beer and waffles, went to an outdoor Christmas market and ate a typical Belgian potato/onion/seasoning dish, piping hot in the cold December air. And then we went and saw a movie! In Belgium! (the film was American Gangster; it was like Scarface, Casino, and Raging Bull all in one, but set in Harlem. I bet it will get best sound at next years awards.)

In other news, last Thursday was the public premier of a dance piece and me and another composer made music to. I have my opinion about how it turned out, so I'll leave you to yours! Check it out...:

http://youecho.nl/media/lisamaduro.htm

Ok... I will post some pictures when I'm back in the states.

If you are one of my friends-being-left-behind reading this, I am not saying goodbye. I hate goodbyes... I prefer, "until next time." So.. until next time!

-e

Dark side

2007-12-04T15:12:00.000Z

Dear G’ntl R’dr,

A lot has been happening around here. My impending release from the Netherlands is filling me with great joy, but like an exponential curve, the difficulties, trials and tribulations of leaving are piling up as the date of my departure closes in. Shipping is the name of the game now… and figuring out how to do it.

I went to Hengelo for the last time (Wouter’s family place) and had a great last time. Their neighbors took me around the region to all the small towns and villages, and we went to a dairy farm where not a farmer milked cows, but a robot that cleaned, fed, milked and recorded each cows individual production. The lactate from the female of the bovine species is a bizarre thing. I then bought some real, farm made cheese, which is delicious.

We then went to an authentic wooden shoe maker. Presents from the Netherlands… :D

Love

-e

Strange Prophecies

2007-11-22T11:28:00.000Z

I had a dream that started with my parents house, being a small, prefab home in a field or some rural, agricultural place. A friend of mine from back home lived next to us. A great journey was about to take place, in which I left that nice, pastoral place, and found myself up in the north with my little sister and fathers family. A French woman had trained a reindeer, which made me extremely sad because the animal was obviously unhappy. After trekking out of the snow, I found myself in an inflatable boat, with Fiona (my sister) sleeping in the back. I was obviously in the San Juan islands, coming down to the mainland of Washington. The water was shallow, so the deep green blue of the sea floor was quite vivid, and I could see a starfish and yellow flounder on the bottom. It was large for a flounder, and I felt sad because I knew some fisherman would catch it and take it for the thin fillet off its backside.

We passed under some strange developments; industrial shipping yards, shrouded in fog mingled with New England style houses, all put right under the new Tacoma Narrows bridge, which appeared a lot larger then it actually is. We silently passed through several marinas and seemingly abandoned tourist boats, all full of noisy tourists who obviously had no respect for the place they were visiting. My though was "If you lived here, you'd be in HELL by now". Dream jokes are much more funny in the dream then in waking life.

I finally got Fiona to where she needed to go and I then returned home myself. In this dream world, there were no cars, but rather there were little luge pads that you sat on, and that would go at great speed to your destination. (You had minimal control over them, mainly minor directional controls, but speed was automated.)

I arrived back home, and I somehow had a horse friend waiting for me. A horse, but a person IN a horse. Very handy. It was night time, and a guest had arrived. They wanted to see the Pacific Northwest for what it really is, so we took him to the Olympic National Forest. We got on the luge pads, went a in a rout that I had never seen before to the Tacoma Narrows bridge (which is in the complete wrong direction of the Olympics), I saw the boats and shipping yards in the mist, commented on what it would be like to live there, and finally ended up in the high, green mountains. There were large tracts of land that had been removed and clear-cut, which made an irregular pattern on the otherwise very organic looking hills.

To my horror, the Olympics had become something like Yosemite; full of polluting assholes and ignorant Americans; annoying church groups and screaming kids. This was most disgraceful. As we hiked up to one of the waterfalls, I could see in the distance that a large computer hacking group had left their mark on the hill on the other side of the valley, as they had somehow changed the color of the trees to a little less intense green, to make an anarchy sign, and write on the hillside: "Bringing hacking to where it belongs". Apparently these anarchist hackers had brought their work here, and were camped out in the forest.

I started getting more and more frustrated, and ended up picking up litter everywhere and yelling at random people to pickup their shit. Finally, I came to a high, vertical rock face that overlooked the entire Olympic National park, and with an overwhelming sadness and rage welling up in me; the fish, the oceans, the reindeer, I woke up.

Usually dreams are subtle and cryptic in their messages; plowing through the subconscious murk and catacombs to collect random bits of information and synthesize it into something visual and recognizable (or not) in a dream world. If there is a hidden, cryptic message in this dream, I missed it completely, as I was fairly overwhelmed with the upfront, not so subtle messages.

I'm looking forward to going home. I'm looking forward to being in the most beautiful, pristine place I know, and I'm looking forward to doing whatever I can to keep it that way.

Why is it such a difficult thing for humans these days, prevention? Preparation? Has the value of sustainability has been lost on us somehow? People look at our beautiful Pacific Northwest and say "OHHH MY GAAAAHHD ITS SOOO PRETTYY! HERB, LETS MOVE HERE" and so they do, they move here and move into Bainbridge island or even worse, start invading the San Juan islands and because it's so beautiful, the demise of all thats good and wonderful about the place we live will get bogged down by people who think it'll last forever and who think their actions have no impact.

I don't care about the great investment you made in Santa Monica and how what you're getting in the Seattle area will be such a deal compared to what you've got down in California, the fact is that this shit is going to RUIN this place I came from, and like a plague of locusts, property mongers and opportunist investors will drive taxes and rates through the room, resources plummet, pollution plagues the ecosystem and throws the whole area into collapse and we're left with an overdeveloped, under-managed, commercial orgy. Bend Oregon went through the same thing; now it has no character left at all. Now, you might argue that thats what Bend needed, as it was a fairly depressed place with little or no commerce. But yuppified and asshole GenXer's in track suits and BMW's running around is hardly better. What little character was there, depressed as it was, has vanished into the vapid wastes of what we'd call a strip mall town.

This affect is happening rampantly on the East coast and New England, I fear. The Southwest Pennsylvania area; a GORGEOUS, picturesque vision of 18th and 19th century life, reminiscent of England and Ireland, seemingly getting swallowed whole by the enormous claw that is land developers and franchise owners.

Lets think about these words... "Development" and "Progress".

According to etymonling.com, the root of progress is defined as:
"progress (n.)
1432, "a going on, action of walking forward," from O.Fr. progres, from L. progressus (see progression). Figurative sense of "growth, development, advancement to higher stages" is from 1603. The verb is attested from c.1590 in the lit. sense, 1610 in the fig. sense."

"Advancement to higher stages". I only with that was happening.

"develop (v.)
1656, "unroll, unfold," from Fr. developper, replacing Eng. disvelop (1592, from M.Fr. desveloper), both from O.Fr. desveloper, from des- "undo" + veloper "wrap up," of uncertain origin, possibly Celt. or Gmc. Modern figurative use is 18c. The photographic sense is from 1845; the real estate sense is from 1890. Development first attested 1756."

unroll, unfold, undo... All sounding pretty nasty for what developers would want us to believe is a pretty happy word.

If I may paraphrase, from my limited experience and knowledge in the world, the word on the street in the hippy era 1960's was "I want to change the world!". In the 70's, the focus was much more inward, "Me" oriented and nurturing in a feminine way. 80's, (again, if you choose to look at the popular media generalization) it was "Moneyyyy!" and the 90's ushered in the "advanced" idea of "Quality of Life". So what's our cliché for the beginning of the 21st century?

Personally, I am drawn to the quote said by Mahatma Ghandi, "Be the change you wish to see in the world". Which is also about creating abundance in your own reality, and in your overwhelming mirth, self esteem, energy and overflowing power, you will no doubt positively effect change around you. From the inside, out. This dream also reaffirms this idea; I am leaving the Netherlands, (a place that is foreign on the deepest of levels to me, not just superficial ones) and coming back to the place I know best, the place that raised me. This is a good opportunity, a good omen.

Hopefully I can find some kind of work to do with animals back home, and maybe get involved in some meaningful, local activism.

I can't just let the Pacific Northwest fall to the forces of evil and the Almighty Dollar.

Let me know what you think, suggest, recommend.

Immerse your soul in love :)

-e

Oh wait

2007-11-20T02:06:00.000Z

DGR,

Yeah, so, I forgot to add the most important part of my last post... which is...

TELL ME WHAT YOUR FAVORITE MOVIES ARE! And I will do my best to see them.

I want modern stuff, and classics, too. New wave French, great actors, great performances that have become cultural clichés, all that stuff. I'm ravenous for films right now.

best,
-e

Cinemania!

2007-11-20T01:01:00.000Z

Raed Eltneg Redaer,

In these months preceding my departure from the Netherlands, I find myself becoming constantly engrossed in the world of film. Perhaps this is caused in part by my now frequent viewings of Inside the Actors Studio, or perhaps my flair for fantasy and alternate reality is coming up again.

I can't describe how much I love movies... they're like a mean: some are amazingly well balanced, with many courses that compliment each flavor and use the best ingredients, and some are like cheese-wiz on a ritz cracker at midnight. The celluloidal buffet is that big and broad! In watching great movies, great pieces of music and great choreographer, I've noticed that they all have one thing in common: Pacing. Flow. The tact to know how things are put together, what order they should be placed in and why.

Examples of good pacing are:

V for Vendetta
The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly
Das Leben Der Anders
Children of Men
Munich
Casablanca ( !! )
Baraka

and the BEST paced film I've EVER seen......

Koyaanisqatsi. It dosen't even have a script, but its still grips you. IF you are the kind of person to be gripped by Ron Fricke's cinematography and about 80 swirling minutes of Philip Glass music. (which by the way, the Koy. score is considered to be his best work, along with Einstein on the Beach)

Film...! *claps hands together* ... wow! This recent delving into the world of cinema has also released my dormant passion for acting. Maybe you didn't know, but I was quite involved in the theater "department" in my old high school. We were known for putting on spectacular, college level shows, with elaborate props, scene changes, music, sound, lighting and sets (thanks to G MacD.) as well as some top rate acting from me and my peers.

As attractive as acting is, it is a dangerous area to get involved in... not edging on the chasm of cliché, but PLUNGING into it, SWAN diving off it, knowing full well that there are about 70,000,000 other 22 year old, dark haired, 5' 10", 1/2 Italian, 1/4 Scottish, 1/4 Hungarian young men with a fair amount of talent and a less then fair amount of training... Yes, as tempting and beautiful as it sounds, I am well aware of its perils. My sister tried the Hollywood actress thing, and has spoken ill of it ever since.

Maybe, in my learning ways, I should heed wisdom like that. Instead, I think it might be fun to join up in community theater. The Pacific Northwest seems to be a thriving place for it, and I would relish any opportunity to portray on stage/film. In fact, Kevin Spacey had an awesome story, that sounded EXACTLY like something I'd do:

Apparently (correct me if I'm wrong) he stopped going to acting school and was attending some kind of seminar or lecture at Alice Tully Hall in NYC by some famous British director or something of this nature, when sitting next to him he saw a sleeping old woman, who had a bit of paper sticking out of her purse. It happened to be an invitation to a post-lecture cocktail party, and, seeing that she was tired, he took the invitation and "swaggered" into the party. Once there, he saw a seat next to the directors chair, and V-lined straight for it. He started talking with the director and eventually explained his audition troubles (cause he couldn't get one) and the director said "Here, make sure your people talk to my people and we'll get you an audition." And so, through the act of theft, he landed his first film gig.

That story reminds me of ME, actually. I was in Alice Tully Hall, seeing the premier or some new piano music, and one of them happened to be a Philip Glass piece that was dedicated to the painter Chuck Close. After the show, I noticed there was some kind of after party going on, and even though there were a couple rent-a-cops "guarding" the entrance, I PLOWED through their reality, even as they tried to stop me, but I just looked so damn convincing with my Marlon Brando-esk smirk, and my 70's brown herringbone tweed blazer, I marched right up there and said hello to Chuck and Philip and talked with them for a while. I did not land a gig, but I did some plowing, v-lining and handshaking with people who with out plowing and v-lining, handshaking would not be possible, so, ok.

Anyway with all my research about breaking out of the system, creating your own reality and freeing your mind to the possibilities of goals and being a cause in the world rather then at affect, this kind of thing makes sense. The benefits of high character are manifested in those who we admire and hence, idolize. I believe imitation is a good indication of high character; unique traits and characteristics that are bare stronger weight and gravity then our own unique traits and characteristics. It is the basis of ALL human attraction.

Wow, this is turning out to be a lot more epic then i expected... ok, next point;

The James Lipton interview with Al Pacino was not so exciting, as Jimmy and Al reminisced off broadway theater directors from the 60's and 70's, and other "things". But back to Mr. Spacey, here's a clip of him doing some amazing impressions. (the Pacino is PRICELESS)

Be well, eat good food, and don't eat after 10PM (otherwise your body will be burning energy digesting and although your mind will sleep, your body will not recharge and you'll wake up tired)

love,

-e

Act as if something happened

2007-11-18T20:16:00.000Z

/ ,/

Ever since getting some wireless internet in the house, I've been making up for lost online time and sinking my proverbial fangs into the delicious slices of everything the world wide web has to offer. My interest in film and acting has been rekindled since watching "Inside the Actors Studio" on youtube. I must say, I prefer Terry Gross' approach to interviewing then James Lipton; Terry dosen't seem to know more about you then you do, whereas James knows everything and his questions are designed to elicit those exact facts that he himself already knows. Kind of like "Tell them about that thing!" and you're like "oh.. yes well.. everyone knows about that already... U mean.. er, yeah."

I also found one of my favorite short films that I saw at the Bumbershoot art festival in Seattle; El Elegante. A beautiful, and strange film. Such a tasty desert.

I also stumbled on the TED talks: an annual seminar of speakers and lecturers who gather in California and swap their new, innovative ideas. From scientists, to artists, to philosophers, it's all represented and absolutely a smorgasborg (sp?) for those with an insatiable curiosity.

Here is one lecture that I find particularly depressing and frightening. Enjoy! :-) Keep on the sunny side! :):):):)

Immerse your soul in love,

-eric

A bizarre encounter

2007-11-15T22:11:00.000Z

Yo, G Reader,

I will be leaving the Netherlands soon. I wrote a whole big post explaining exactly why I'm leaving, yet now I believe, I don't need to explain anything:

The Netherlands makes me unhappy. I find myself increasingly depressed and angry. If that is not a good basis to change your position in life, then I don't know what is.

Basically, I realize that "... in the event of a loss of cabin pressure, an individual oxygen mask will drop down in front of you. Remember to secure your own mask before helping others around you."

Take care of yourself today, so that in your abundance, you may help others around you. You're no good to anyone rotting from the inside, or dead on the outside.

And the questions for today are:

• When does a "positive attitude" or "optimistic outlook/approach" mask realistic problems or a logical decision making ability?

• Are comedians simply people who are so dissolusioned with the world, that in their frustration, get fed up and throw the world back in our faces in exaggerated, odd, or mirroring ways? If so, are they funny because the way humans are is funny and easy to laugh at?

Best,
-e

PS For a truly bizarre viewing experience, please take the time to bewilder yourself by viewing this charming, Japanese produced, "Learn English" video. I'm sure you will find it... HIGHLY informative.

Mks m lgh evry tm!

2007-11-12T22:57:00.000Z

Dear G R's,

They sure are having fun, aren't they? This is for real!

Great success.

Love
-e

Maps

2007-11-09T16:46:00.000Z

G'ntl R'dr,

A good friend (John) brought up a great point about maps in his last comment... and it sent me on a map spree.

I LOVE MAPS. Really, I do. You wanna make me happy? Give me a big atlas and watch my imagination soar. Maps online are not that cool, not compared to having the real thing in your hand; running your finger across places that you may never see, or might not even be that interesting to see, but none-the-less, they are there for you to pour over. How nice, eh?

My favorites are maps of the Middle East, Eastern Europe, Russia, the landlocked countries of Central Asia and places around the Black, Caspian, and Aral (of whats left of it) Seas.

I also get a kick out of old maps. How did Europeans view of the world based on maps change their mentality? Or did it? Does an environment dictate the choies, views and/or actions of a given aggregation of people, now matter how small or large?

Questions linger like cigarette smoke in a bar that just won't stop its attack on your nostrils. Speaking of that kind of thing, by the New Year, The Netherlands will adopt an indoor smoking ban. Great success for clothes and upholstery!

Here are some maps I like:

On another note, In Hengelo (where my friend Wouter comes from) I was with another of our friends and we came across a charming young girl wearing this old-time Dutch outfit. I asked her "Spreek jij een beetje Ingles?" to which she replied "Nee, allen Nederlands..." And Max (friend) then asked her if we could get a picture of her and me.

Here it is:

Great success!

I hope you are all enjoying yourselves.

Spread the love,

-e(ric)

dont fail

2007-11-08T23:38:00.000Z

Dearest, Gentle Reader,"

The tingling in the feet, the bouncing of the skull, and pulsing of the hands, the jumping step. It's not as though, nor is it just an organ clinging to our ears, or the sizzling of the bow that rakes across our guitar. Does the step award the feeble minded, or just, not accept?

Sigur Rós, Track 5 (Álafoss), ( ):

"Don't you. you so-oo. You're you? Don't you. you so-oo. You're you?

Don't you, the sun-row. You're yo-ou-. Don't you, the sun row. Do yo-ou? Don't-oh you.

Donnn't you? oo-you. ooo-n you- lo -...

Don't*you* you, lo-... you so-. you. down you.

You --. -Ou- ou... iiive.

*vox over*"

-e

PS try it! it's fun!

You sighed oh no, you sighed only shout out

2007-11-08T23:28:00.000Z

G R,!

It seems South America is winning! Great success for South American. I remember when my teacher and sister Lyssia, told us that the world map should be upside down, due to the fact that it was whites suppressing darker skinned people. I remember thinking it was totally illogical to flip the world map, as to convice the "supreme" society would take more effort then the gratification of having it flipped, would give. At the same time, I see the point... evolved people realize its significance while unevolved people don't.

"What? You say it's not significant? WELL YOU'RE NOT EVOLVED! I don't know how you got out of the stone age, but go back to the shadow, you fiend!"

Notice how I am able to preemptly deflect any 3rd party devils advocate? Great success!

love
-e

you sighed... oh no ;-)

2007-11-08T22:45:00.001Z

G R,

It seems that the United States (Seattle area), South American (Chile?), and the Netherlands (Dutch area?) are now competing for first place in who looks at my blog the most. I am amused.

Here, I will relate an MSN conversation to you at this VERY MOMENT:

[wouter]
what does ur feeling say

Eric Sutherland
11:33

i feeling says go back to the states... find a piece of land and build my studio on it. then learn sound editing and recording techniques and make popular songs

33:43
thats the impulse i feel

33:52
we're taught to ignore those impulses, though

33:57
so i'm ignoring it

(8)Pathétique(8) Don't bother looking at the view, I have already composed it
11:34

ah

i think you want to go back to the states

but just for a year or so

and then go study somewhere in europe again

figure stuff out

create a basis

go back to your roots and inspiration

Eric Sutherland
11:35

mm

but... lekkerdings....!

(8)Pathétique(8) Don't bother looking at the view, I have already composed it
11:36

haha

yes

true

then stay in tilburg

Eric Sutherland

its so cool you've been to the part of the world where i grew up

did i tell you about my dream last night?

(8)Pathétique(8) Don't bother looking at the view, I have already composed it
11:37

nee

tell me!

yeah

Eric Sutherland
11:39

http://afterjustnow.blogspot.com/

it is written

"and it was good..."

(8)Pathétique(8) Don't bother looking at the view, I have already composed it
11:39

nice

im gonna read it now

Eric Sutherland
11:39

great!

(8)Pathétique(8) Don't bother looking at the view, I have already composed it
11:43

cool!

i had a dog like that, a collie

but not a white one

Eric Sutherland
11:44

yeaahhh

i know

bullie

(8)Pathétique(8) Don't bother looking at the view, I have already composed it
11:45

yeah

wow you actually remembered that

haha

Eric Sutherland
11:46

see what a good friend i am?

i'm watching a couple (dating) go into kikno

in front of my eeyyes

they're feeling how big their biceps are

(8)Pathétique(8) Don't bother looking at the view, I have already composed it
11:46

haha

Eric Sutherland
11:47

the girl is quite dominant

(8)Pathétique(8) Don't bother looking at the view, I have already composed it
11:47

omg

gay?

ah

ok

nice

Eric Sutherland
11:47

very like.... proving that shes independent

the guy is trendy, almost like will, but white, and more emo

and kinda... gay?

(8)Pathétique(8) Don't bother looking at the view, I have already composed it
11:47

haha

Eric Sutherland
11:47

a little?

maybe

(8)Pathétique(8) Don't bother looking at the view, I have already composed it
11:47

lol

Eric Sutherland
11:47

the girl is cute. almost too cute and bigger then him lolz.

(8)Pathétique(8) Don't bother looking at the view, I have already composed it
11:47

thats why shes the dominant one

Eric Sutherland
11:48

the guy pushes his hair out of his face a lot, and the girls is quite normal looking

(8)Pathétique(8) Don't bother looking at the view, I have already composed it
11:48

haha

48:27
ok

So ends our MSN conversation. well it's going on, as I type... the girl is sitting back, legs crossed, glass of [white] wine in one hand, sitting straight in her chair. The guy has his arms casually crossed, and is leaning forward. Typical... typical submissive, approcal seeking. I've been reading two books on body language, and it's MOST fascinating.

Frustraton now?
... we'll see. He will get attached, and she will think it's a bit of fun, but in the end, consider him a big wuss. Men are such pussies... its true. Women are considered to be the emotional ones-but no, not true. Women EXPRESS emotion more, men FEEL it, deeper and more painful. Reasearch proves it, and it was good. So enjoy your biological wiring.

I don't understand what they're saying, but his hands are clenched... a sign of frustration. Even when they are smiling, when their hands are clenched, its furstration.

We'll see. We'll see.

Best,
-e

you sighed oh no

2007-11-08T22:14:00.000Z

GR,

Omg, the dot in South America has grown even bigger! Great success! If I said my goal with this blog was to create a big dot in South America, I think my goal would be complete!

But I never said that. Too bad, eh?

Anyway, this is still so far so good.

Best,
-e

PS I must get in as mant posts as my time here with internet allows me.

smoking my BLONG

2007-11-08T20:31:00.000Z

GentleReader!

someone from south america looked at my blog!

really, it's true.

Yet the experienced blogger in my mind, thinks:

"ahh Eric, you are so young and cute. One day, when your blog is big and complex like mine, you will get hits from Antarctica, or even Turkmenistan and Iran! ha-ha-ha! If that ever happens! [lolz ohhh i'm great. The great things about this kid is that no matter how old he gets, I'll always be older!]"

... yes... yes I know. I am forever looking up to the tutorial writers of blogspot.com and the big-blog-wigs, (or Bligs) smoking their "blongs" and blowing out great nimbus clouds of Sagacious advice.

Ok, but, proverbial "Star Wars" in place, someone from South American really did visit my blog! That's bizarre and so cool. Why would we think we're all so different?

Love,
-e'rillious maximus

you saw the load, you sighed oh no oh life

2007-11-08T15:26:00.000Z

Gentle Reader,

http://www.apple.com/trailers/independent/whatwouldjesusbuy/

http://www.apple.com/trailers/independent/sharkwater/trailer/

Two movies I would really like to see. Why have humans become so full of shit? Why is this cultured, Western, civilized way of living cultured of civilized? Sounds like a double standard to me. I am depressed in a deep way, every day, at the fact that we are not only driving ourselves to extinction as a population, but also every other living thing on this planet. It makes me not want to have kids, it makes me feel no sorrow or pain or sense of loss when I think about whatever inevitable, forthcoming obliteration awaits the human race.

With population so huge, it’s no wonder we can’t function the way our brains have been wired. For thousands of years, the way our ancestors survived and thus, psychologically evolved, goes against so many cultural, religious and societal conventions that are intended to help us survive, but are actually backfiring in our faces today.

I say this not wailing and lamenting, but nodding and considering. Not everyone is ignorant of their part in the annihilation of life in their striving of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. I hope that I fit that demographic. If you have read to this point, logic suggests that you probably do too.

Consider… can the quality of language be subject to the quality of our actions as a group/society/culture/race?

“Girls just wanna have fun” “Forgive and forget” “Live in the moment” “Go with the flow” etc.

This presupposition in these common cultural clichés suggests that everything will be taken care of, you need not worry about actions that might positively or negatively affect thee future, and that someone else will clean up your mess. Dangerous propaganda to build and nurture a society on, if you ask me.

In the meantime, lets practice what Ghandi preached, and be the change we wish to see, and build the reality you want to live in.

Journey well,

-e

oh no oh life

2007-11-08T14:53:00.000Z

Dear G R,

Last night I dreamt I got a dog. He was a big, fuzzy collie/husky mix, black and white and very cute. But it was like an H&M dog or something… it had a tag and price and size. I realized I couldn’t keep it, so I had to return it, but I didn’t want to. Meanwhile, I ended up in the Stockholm airport and saw my friend Magnus, who had dyed his hair red and was looking quite nihilistic. Then I ran into my sister Molly, her boyfriend George and their dog Lola, who was frolicking around, per usual. I couldn’t keep my dog, because my house doesn't allow pets, and because I knew I couldn’t devote all that time to him. So, I ended up talking to an Italian train conductor on the New York subway, and demanded for him to tell me which train went to the airport. As the train departed, as if I weighed a metric ton, I pulled myself in slow motion, up and up, slowly onto the train, as I watched the intestinal infrastructure of underground New York fly by me. I then spoke Italian to the conductor, or dream Italian, which might have been more logical.

I woke up, sad that I had no dog and somewhat forlorn that I was not in New York. But a dog would be better then New York. NYC doesn't bark at things for you, and it doesn't lick you or fetch a ball.

Best,
-e

PS Radiohead webcast on Friday (tomorrow). In Quicktime Player, URL link to: rtsp://89.167.182.32:80/mystream.sdp

The IND rears its ugly head

2007-11-06T16:27:00.000Z

Dear Gentle Reader,

Well I got another letter from the IND today. Not too threatening, only one page, and an envelope to send back. No dount they are salavating and frothing at the mouth due to their lack of some archane piece of paper they don't have in the cluthes of their horny paws. I am sure it will prove to be some proof of insurance or something. Quite frankly the ineptitude of this beuocratic country is wearing me down. Its a very clever scheme Western countires have: make it so difficult to get anything legally done that the party who wants something from the government will eventually give up due to the a long, dragged out champaigne of geurilla-doccument warefare. Not this time...

Oh, and to those who might have recieved a rather boring guitar piece from me, thats actually not what I watned you to hear.

http://download.yousendit.com/3F3BD2DD1F1B928F

This is it. enjoy. I think its quite clever.

best,
-e

No long far le down!

2007-11-06T00:14:00.000Z

GENTLE READERS,

Fear not, I have not died, nor have I been abducted into an elaborate plot (unfortunately) but rather, the internet gods of the Netherlands are angry with me. Maybe because I downloaded every Star Trek movie. Ok, maybe that's the reason. Or maybe because the assholes upstairs have cut off the internet to our little three-person house downstairs (we’re all connected in this place). I'm not stealing some Wi-Fi at my friend Wouter’s place (who you’ve no doubt seen as the star in a recent episode of “Wouter in America”) from some low-key family who apparently has no qualms with keeping their wireless uuencoded.

Not only are the internet gods angry with me, so are the Blog Police. Bad form to let a blog go for too long, so I’ve learned, and so I’ll remember. *Flagellates self*

Things here have not been going excitingly, or boring. School is boring, I can tell you that much. Getting through this obligatory preordained construct is like pulling teeth for me. Or is it just like this because of my situation in the Netherlands? Lately I have found Dutch people to be extremely immature, cold and insincere. So much for Dutch straightforwardness.

But this has also allowed for the strong gentleman in me to come out; not last week, I had a meeting with the so-called administrator or right-hand-man of the boss-man of the conservatory, about what exactly to do with my classes. Boring boring boring, classes, classes, and school whatever. It seems so stupid when I write it out, considering the pressing problems of the world today, but I suppose some might want to hear about these “problems” so I’ll relate. This guys name is Miano.

Eric: You no give classes in English, I no give you money.
Miano: There was a Spanish guy who came here and learned Dutch in 6 months.
Eric: I'm not a Spanish guy.
Miano: This technically isn’t an International school.
Eric: I'm an international student; a foreigner of the Netherlands. I that not enough to constitute this an international organization? With this logic, you should only accept Dutch people. Why have you accepted me? No Ingles, no Euros.
Miano: I’ll see what I can do.

Anyway, I guess WE’LL SEE WHAT THEY’LL DO. Quite frankly, I’ve been studying what a gentleman is, and I’ve discovered he is not gentle, at all. In fact a gentleman is not worried at all with conflict, nor is he concerned with picking up the proverbial sword when necessecarily (ﬂfuck that word). He looks after himself first, and then towards the wellbeing of others. Maybe you think that's selfish or egocentric, but think of it this way: “In the event of a loss of cabin pressure, an individual oxygen mask will drop down above you […] Remember to secure your mask first, before helping others. Even children.” Very true… for what good are you if you’re unconscious or dead?? Help yourself, and then the good-natured desire to help others will come naturally.

In closing for this brief update, I am taking no shit. I am setting preferences. I am deleting win/lose situations from my life. I have decided to push through fear and create things for myself, rather then bound to archaic and disappointing protocols. The school I am attending even made a mistake of giving me €1500 that they should not have given me. And to the best of the evidence and knowledge I have, I am not legally obligated to pay it back. If they kick me out for not being merciful because of their retarded administrative mistake, then it’s a blessing: I move to Amsterdam. Great success. If they forget about it, and let me stay, then they’ll be paying my own tuition for this year. Good thing too, because I'm getting hardly anything done otherwise; only the teachings I give myself, and am able to observe from the outside world. If they don't get me classes in English, I leave Tilburg, terminate my student status at the Fonty’s Conservatorium and move to Amsterdam anyway. Great success.

In the end, when you start taking control of the things you control in your life, how can you lose? You’re never helpless, you’re never out of control, and you yourself have the ability create or destroy any semblance of good or bad in your life. I might sound self-hellish because I'm speaking to myself as much as I am to you. Affirmations, baby ;-)

Ok… I believe that's it. Amsterdam, maybe you’ll be in my future soon.

No more planning. Only speculation and action. Planning assumes or presupposes that you have control of the future… er. No. You can plan to have control of the present, presupposing that the future present is congruent with your unconscious decision making abilities! Not a good idea to have given me the books “Blink” and “Feel the Fear and Do it Anyway”. Good stuff.

Love
-Eric Tiberius Sutherland

no far le far down

2007-10-04T17:50:00.000+01:00

Hello, Gentle Reader,

Well, hopefully the Dutch gov. won't kick me out. I sent in a new application for a residence permit. I hate paper work and bureaucracy.

I'm not too talkative today, so check this out..

Wouter in America!

the history of the last few weeks in an email

2007-09-14T01:31:00.000+01:00

Dear Gentle Reader,

DAMN! It's tricky trying to keep up a blog when there are so many things that want to be done that aren't your blog!

But ok, I atone for my sins: Here is an mass email I sent to friends and family. It pretty much sums up what's been going on and whats on my mind.

(And if you get through it all, theres a special treat waiting for you at the end ;D)

Dear Gentle Readers, (friends and family, etc al)

I was replying to an email to my dear mother and one thing lead to another, and after take a three hour break from my coffee-in-the-veins style composing session, at 07:00 Central Europe Standard (+1 hour GMT, yes?) I bring you the latest update and mental musings from my life here in the littiebig Netherlands. Aka, THE CHRONICLES OF AN AMERICAN IN NETHERLANDIA.
k'cha! Whang! Zing! here we go...

[Replying to an email mum sent me, but thought you all might want to know what I'm doing as of tonight....]

On Sep 13, 2007, at 9:53 PM, Linn wrote:

Dear Eric,

What is the Radiohead song that has the spinning tube thingy sound...Mary Rain had one of those tubes you spin around and they make a sound, pitch depending on how fast you swing them around their head. Do oyu know which song has that?

I love you!!
Ma

Like Spinning Plates. It's off Amnesiac. They change pitch and hit the the natural resonance of the tube because of some kind of air thing and whatnot that sends vibrations some places and so forth. Mary knows. But the point is that in the ONE pitch that is produced when you spin it at low speed, you hear every tone in the universe, all packed into these frequencies and resonances. Thats non tempered, organic tuning for you.

Tomorrow I go get a gym membership. only €70 one year of buffness! Protein shakes, here i come!

So let's see... what's going on....
Primary news:
I have a new commission I'm frantically working on! My newest piece is part of a program about failure music, or falling down music. It's for

Flute
Clarinet
Tenor sax
Baritone sax
two percussionists (playing hi-lo toms, tambourine, kick trum, and high-hat)
piano
contrabass.
and me (doing the speaking part)
Funny story, I'm getting it in late; today the leader/conductor of the project was like "you missed the first rehursal today!" and I was quickly reached into my situational tension-diffusion comments, and said, "well... if the theme of the program is failure, we're off to a good start! haha" But yea, he didn't laugh so much. I then quickly reversed the frame and changed the subject. Great success! *thumbs up*

The piece is a stream of consciousness piece, about ME, writing the piece for this program. Play within a play thing, and I will be performing the part of my own mental dialogue. So I'll be up there, commenting on my own composing (or lack of composing) and then I'll comment on the probability of it being performed, or say stuff like "Shit I bet Arnold [the conductor] is thinking 'where the is that kid's music?? he must be really irresponsible!'" and then I write in the conductors score, to yell at me, "Where is your music?!? The players don't have any parts!!"
All sorts of exciting 2nd, 3rd, 4th and 5th walls will be broken down in 5 minutes! And the piece, although written as a failure to compose something successful, will become a success either way. Having failure be a theme is really handy, because you win or... you win: if the piece sucks, you win because you fulfilled the requirements and framework of the theme. If the piece is ACTUALLY good, then you've just written a good piece. Chaw! Anyway, I think it will be really interesting, on many different levels. Failure will be built into it, my locked up mental dialogue will be open and free to roam the score (so basically ANYTHING I'm thinking while writing it is fair game), and for bonus failure probability, the technical skill demanded of the players is quite high, which makes the potentiality for THEM to screw up while playing is also high.
The NEXT cool thing about this project is that it's going to tour around the Netherlands and parts of Belgium, but the bit I'm really excited about is the fact that this piece is going to be performed in the Concertgebouw, in Amsterdam. The Concertgebouw is the Netherlands premier concert hall, soopjadelux style, famous through out the world, etc etc. Kind of like Carnige Hall, except not. It's a very exciting thing to be able to put on your resumé. : D
So we'll see how all my cursing and unorthodox performance habits go over in the lap of high Dutch musical society....
Ehh! They're Dutch. They probably see weirder stuff on their way to work.

Secondary news:
Some of my classes are in Dutch, which sucks, but I have the best argument at my disposal ("I didn't come here to learn a language, I came here to learn music! Now if everything is taught in Dutch, why do you not give your foreign students Dutch language exams?? Dur-hay.") but I'm dealing with that and setting up private lessons for things like music history and composition techniques of the 20th century, which is an important class. I also have to figure out how to renew the residence permit (I think it MIGHT be less €'s then I expected... *crosses fingers*).

Tertiary news:
I met a nice Irish girl. Dancer from... Carlow? [sp?] Something like that. Anyway, she's great and all and we get along real good. But I'm quickly becoming concerned of the CLINGY thing... I should probably start putting out vibes that display the "no-clingyness-area" sign. But I tell you, there's something about speaking the same language that sometimes makes all the difference. Strange... and I remember something about love overcoming the language barrier and being a cross-culture force of nature...
Still, it's rare to find someone who isn't completely self absorbed and impossible to have a conversation with, so should I not throw this opportunity away lightly....? Actually there are more attractive, interesting young women here then anywhere else I can imagine. So much so, that the idea of getting hung up on one person (when you're only 21 and when there's such potential for so many good experiences to be had all around,) gets a little ridiculous. [lolz]

Speaking of all this,.... reminds me – booyakasha! I have to tell you about this guy I know called Aldrico, because he's now in the pantheon of Most Influential People in my life. The "M.I.P. Pantheon" Watch:

Ok, so, there is a CRAZY but awesome dance teacher from Curacao teaching at the Fonty's Dansacademie that Wouter [my best Dutch friend] and I have known him for about a year now. He's the most congruently, wacko, nutjob who you can't help but love because, (in his words) "Baby, I am only love! Look into my eyes right now; I see me in you, and you and me, and I am only listening to the voice of God, and God is love. From God, the universe and every person on earth, I want you to know you are a GOOODDD, baby, yes a GOD. And I am a God- Look around you! Everyone here is a God! I love them too! There is no such thing as coincidence! You are doing what you are doing in your life because it makes you happy, and I am here talking to you because it makes me happy. Coincidence and problems in life do not exist; only the illusion of coincidence and problems exist! [actually, I might have just made that up myself] Never ask a question if you feel you cannot life with the answer...!"

... these and other things are just a few of his collected wisdoms. And all, coming out of a small black (gay? bi? who knows) dancer wearing a yin-yang dew rag, hemp rainbow coat and the lower part of a sarong while saying in between great breaths of philosophizing, that (though not his corporeal from) he is a being from Proxima Centauri ("... Ah, you people on this planet are so strange sometimes...") and how he will read your mind, but only if you allow God's love into your being and become one with him... All of that is fairly overwhelming when you first met this guy. I've even noticed the most super mellow, chill, laid back, socially proofed, "I'm so mellow, I'm melting" or "I'm so open minded my brain fell out" people become temporary Republicans compared to Aldrico. I saw one of the most hardened, curt, severe guys I've seen turn into a laughing baby after about an hour in the proverbial arms of Aldrico. So when I met him, he was wholly beyond my experience, and I was more then a little skeptical; seeing such ardent, unbridled enthusiasm for whatever truth he was proclaiming and touting with such reckless abandon give me a kind of mental knee-jerk reaction of instant skepticism.

Maybe skeptical isn't the right word... Curious, is the way to describe it. All these things about the man add up to two words in the minds of most people: FUCKIN' WACKO. But every action, utterance, or dialogue you have with him is so congruent and consistent, and is spoken in such a tone that conveys such an unequaled conviction, gusto, sincerity, passion, [etc] and at times some kind of benevolent fervor, you can't help to be affected by the guy in one way or another.

In the end, using the words "touting beliefs" and "spreading truths" don't do him justice; That merely reduces him down to an image NOT of a person who has evaded the sometimes-nightmarish-reality what we experience everyday as (and what I call) the "Juggernaut That is 21st Century", but rather another babbling, oddball-truth monger on a BC-AD, downtown Babylon/Jerusalem street. Which he is not.
He's another babbling, oddball-truth monger on an AD-CB, downtown Tilburg/Amsterdam street ;-D

[Note: Oddly enough, "Oddball" was the original henchman-character idea for the 1964 James Bond film "Goldfinger" (whose first draft was oddly enough penned by a young Charlie Kaufman and depicted Oddball as a 6'5" [198 cm], obese, acne ridden, red-haired Chinese hit man, rather then what the producers eventually sold out for, being simply, a physically powerful Korean actor); where "Oddball", instead of doing something productive for Mr. Goldfinger, (like nonchalantly killing James Bond by [after J.B. desperately tried to ¡whang! him with a Roman Cæser bust], slipping an arsenic-infused, semi-self-sustaining-pneumatically-powered-exploding-cufflink in one of James's stolen prophylactics and whipping it around his head like a latex sling, or hurling a potassium nitrate laced, soaked-in-gasoline-waiting-to-exploding-on-impact-dickey at James's car) would attempt to pick up a golf ball with his eye and stand in a hunched over position while in a wedding dress, with both eyes going slightly different directions, humming "We'll Meet Again" Sadly, these scenes were mysteriously lost during the editing early drafts.]

Back to it....

Ok so...! It's more like... in a world where technologies change so quickly (and our society is based on technology, so the affects of rapid changes in technology are reflected in a rapidly changing society too,) where fads are ever shifting, styles, trends, in, out, fashion ever changing and chanting: "be like this!", "no be yourself!", "Go with the flow", "Don't follow the pack" [the last two are actually two postcards taped on my bathroom door, RIGHT next to each other. What a fucking, blatant, wishy-washy contradiction; the pop-culture establishment commanding you to embrace and reject at the same time, the very pop-culture establishment that tells people what's hot and what's not, the same disembodied idea that people resort to because of the confusion that ensues from two mutually exclusive ideas being jammed down people's throat and companies making profit from the aftermath[birth?] of it all. wtf?], OK so because of all these contradictions and push-pulls in our lives, coming across someone who is SO set in their reality, SO congruent with it (congruent is the word of the month. Use it.) and most of all so real about it, it's no wonder everyone in this school i go to is moved by him on some level; you either love the guy and find him intriguing or you find him to be just another bizarre eccentric, irrelevant (and irreverent , thats for sure) part of the scenery.

In the eye of someone who's vantage point of reality is somewhat different, most us "normal" people are probably just floating around, clinging to nothing solid or real, but to whatever illusion we happen to get ourselves tangled in, and then as soon as we've realized it as real, *poof* it's gone, and we continue our aimless floating until we get snagged in the next version of a solid vision of how the world works..

Anyway, so one day, Wouter and I are having a beer and Aldrico walks by. If anything your day just gets a little more odd with Aldrico around, which is better then normal and boring. So he comes and sits down with us, and we all have a little "therapy" session/philosophy symposium, (actually Aldrico did most of the therapizing, with me giving random input when I could get a word in.) After all that, I decided to try a little experiment: I would wake up in the morning and say to myself something like:

"I am Love. Universe, you have given me this day to live and I take comfort in the fact that you will provide me with exactly what I need. Whether I perceive it as good or bad bad, I take comfort in the fact that You know it is exactly what I need at this moment and I will continue to love everyone and everything I come in contact with. I am Love." Like a daily positivity priming mantra.

(Also, on a side note, I've been into Neuro-Linguistic Programming [NLP] and self-hypnosis for a while, and in one recording, I remember a hypnotist talking about how "... if you do not step up to your rightful task of programming your own mind [reality], the world will do it for you. The thoughts in your mind are knowledge; you are the one responsible for choosing which thoughts you are thinking, because the conscious mind is only capable of thinking one conscious thought at a time. The subconscious mind is like a sponge; soaking up whatever your conscious mind saturates it with. The thoughts you are thinking impregnate the subconscious mind, and then your subconscious will set about creating your world [your REALITY] by the nature of the thoughts you have allowed to enter. Think positive, happy thoughts, and you will feel positive and happy. Think angry, or hostile thoughts, and you will immediately feel angry, or hostile." Pretty simple idea, but it all lines up with what I'm about to share next..)

So the next day, I say this mantra to myself (as well as always being aware of what that hypnotist said) and almost at ONCE perceived a difference in the people around me. All of the sudden, I was bombarded by text messages, approached by girls I didn't know, met with smiles and handshakes from guys who had been typically cool to me, got on well with the people selling fruit and cheese in the open air market, got a free beer that night, etc etc... and everyone saw that stuff, and reacted positively to me again, which made other people see, and that made me feel awesome, and this cyclical receptivity started to occur which created this exponential feedback loop of good vibes and positive energy. (coincidentally, or not, this is the day I met the nice Irish girl.)

This got me thinking about the whole "reality" thing. What is your reality? Is it really possible to create your own reality? I'm becoming more and more convinced of this everyday I experience things like this. Mind you, there is fear associated with this... because going out of your way to tell that girl across the street that you think her she did her hair really nicely today is fairly non-traditional, the fear of social rejection is present; yet in someone else's mind this could be totally normal, like opening a door or brushing your teeth. But we don't live in a time where you'll get thrown out into the Savannah if you happen to compliment the Alpha-Male-Of-the-Group's wife and he didn't like it too much. So the fear becomes irrational, and transcend-able.

Likewise, this is the fear of creating your own reality, (even more fear when fear its self guides and molds your consciousness) where you don't have to ask permission to do the things that make you happy. How many people do you know who are free? Maybe this is the definition of freedom. I never really got the quote "the truth will set you free" UNTIL I put it into a handy-dadny (yet non-intuitive/organic) equation: ((Believing=seeing) + (Believing is truth)) • Truth= Freedom.

But on the flip side, once you've experienced this positive frame of mind, it's amazing how most people, even me, for most our their/our lives are programmed to think negatively, or are stuck in these hardwired, deep set ruts of obstructive, negative thinking. How hard is it to consciously block negative thoughts from entering your mind? I tried it for a day and sometimes it was like trying to run in five feet of Pacific Ocean coastal waters on the ebb tide. I guess it seems to natural to get pissed off at stupid stuff and have something to complain about rather then a solution or a lack of attachment to a certain outcome. Strange.

Yet when you instead filter out negativity from your mind and replace it with optimism, you bombard your subconscious equally with positive thinking rather then typical negative thinking and thus slowly rewire your consciousness to create new channels of constructive awareness. Like having worn sunglasses for a long period that were tinted blue, so everything you saw was blue, and you could see the deepest shades and most amazing blues ever.

But it therefore also eliminated the chance of seeing the color red, and many other colors. So a diversion if the flow of mental energies is like changing your proverbial sunglasses to sunglasses that are not red, or blue or gray, or yellow but CLEAR. I think clear is most likely color to bring you the things in life that make you happy, the things that you want and need. :D When that kind of thinking coming from a place of positivity, creativity, and love starts to occur on a larger scale, I wonder how the external, worldly affects will manifest themselves. Maybe that day when all the great things happened was a first taste of the new reality I'm trying to create for myself.

So anyway, I guess since I've arrived back in Europe, I've been reinventing myself in one way or another... or maybe not reinventing, since no need to reinvent the wheel ;-) but maybe refining. Or redefining. Attuning. Something of this nature.

Either that or "dammnnn! My new haircut, Tsubo shoes, new grey striped euro-pants, blingy socks covered in stars and dice, beachy-leather bracelets, an awesome new button-up crimson shirt, and dark sunglasses, all topped off with a dash of Armani Code cologne gives me a real edge!"

hahaahahhaaha well, wow. So now that you're thoroughly confused, I'm going to have to give you a proverbial pat on the back!

And for those of you who just skipped to the bottom, well.... you're not going to get the new car or home kitchen suite. But thanks for playingg!! We'll be back next weeekk...

jaaaayysus, who knows anymore.

Maybe I should just read this email while the ensemble plays aleatoric music at mezzo-mezzo.

OK! You're done. That's what's going on in my life, and now its your turn to inform me I now require you to get me in the loop of whatever is happening in your diverse and varied lives.

I love you all and wish the best for you in your pursuits for... [select one or all] Today/Tomorrow/Next week/Next year/Next 5-10 years/Next life...

-e

PS Ya'll have been BCC'ed, in case anyone was touchy about that kind of thing...

Now, let's watch the Brazilian dance company Grupo Corpo blow our proverbial socks off in a while ride of viewing pleasure:

And, lets be reminded of what an amazing ending this is for a concert, and yes, even a long winded blog post:

amazingness

2007-08-27T02:48:00.000+01:00

May 3rd, 2006. Sigur Rós plays at Benaroya Hall in Seattle. My friend and I go see it and are blown away. Check out this clip of the last piece they played. Note the awsomeness around 2:20......:

Omg

2007-08-21T16:32:00.000+01:00

Dear Gentle Reader,

Omgz, it's been a while since we've had a little chat! Such as it is, I'm sitting with my good friend, Wouter (from NL), in the Boeing field airport, waiting for a small plane to transport us to San Juan Island to visit my dad and his crue.

I’ve been showing Wouter a thin but unique slice of Americana: the Pacific Northwest. It’s always interesting to see the place you know best through the eyes of someone who has never seen it before. I wish I could have that experience.

This is what it’s like: when you hear a piece of music for the first time and know nothing about it, but only get the sound of it. The flavor. The je ne sais quoi and “I don't know what”. I wish I could have that experience again… hearing all my favorite music for the first time. I vaguely remember my first impressions of things I really love and know very well now, but to have that feeling of intrigue and mystery is priceless.

I certainly remember being in the PNW (Pacific Northwest) for the first time… a harrowing, rugged, mountainous, forested, cloudy, rainy piece of land with no apparent beauty. Yet then again, I was very small, and easily impressed by bright, shiny things, like California and Hawaii. Of course now I see it completely differently… I see it as the MOST beautiful place I’ve ever been, with the most beautiful people I’ve ever known [friends and family, mind you], and when the infrastructure collapses, there’s no place I’d rather be/defend then my own little proverbial piece of home up here.

Wouter and I were reminiscing about a particularly annoying Dutch acquaintance of ours… her impression of the PNW was something of “Oh how boring! It must rain there all the time and be like… totally boring.” I agreed with her. As I do to everyone who has expressed a sentiment similar to that. J

Now that we’ve got all the undesirables far away, San Juan awaits.

With love,

-E

A cover

2007-08-08T21:51:00.000+01:00

Hello, Gentle Reader,

This is a cover I made. A new mic, a new reocording, etc. I'm happy with it.

love

-e

San Juan is land

2007-08-01T04:42:00.000+01:00

Dear Gentle Reader,

Every time I leave the Pacific Northwest and come back, I am always struck by the magnificent beauty that surrounds us up here. That being said, I wish it wouldn't change, and that there was a population cap in the region and that all the developers would go to hell and find new jobs turning the 1st and 2nd layers of hell into nice little condo complexes and sprawling, resource gobbling, golf course communities... keeping all that shit where it belongs! Anyway, being in the San Juan Islands is so nice, not only because I get to see beautiful scenery and catch shrimp, but I get to see my dad and his crue, in particular, my little sister Fiona who is at an age now (9) where we can really have fun sibling rivalries and fights, and I can put her up to all sorts of things that her parents would usually say no to. :D

On Thursday, I went into Seattle for the First Thursday Art Walk. for those not familiar with the FTAW, it's where every first Thursday of the month, the galleries in Seattle open up their new exhibitions and artwork. To be honest, this one didn't strike me as being totally engrossing, but I did make an interesting connection; There was a man selling his wifes work, which was fairly big canvases of this surreal little girl character, ranging in size from very small to very big. At first glance I felt I should move in and take a closer look, as well as talk to the gentleman behind the desk about the work. And apparently this woman (who lives in Bremerton) is quite up and coming and has had numerous offers to animate and/or have the rights bought fo rthis "character", including Disney who has approached her. Thankfully, she hasn't sold yet. I asked if she ever had been asked to add music as a background if this ever got into a gallery, or on a website, and amazingly, he said no. And now, if I can put something together that they like to fit with the mood and sentiment of the pieces, they will consider putting it on the background of the website. COol, eh??

At another point during the evening, I was talking to a guy about these little paintings he was selling on the street, and he ended up giving me a free one. Maybe he didn't like it, because it's kind of shit, but it was fun getting a free thing. I'll post a picture of that...

What else has been going on... Yesterday I went to the Port Townsend Blues Festival with my friend Haley (who Jacob and I used to work with when we worked on the cruise line). Some rocked, some didn't, but all in all a very beautiful experience in PT.

With time running out, I am looking forward to sitting in the sun for a little while.

And with all that being said... I will share a few pictures of my regional travels:

Ok, ya'll. I hope you're out enjoying summer, where ever you may be in the world.

Love,
Stanley Kropaelopugus

Long Time No Post

2007-07-25T22:18:00.000+01:00

Why, Hello, Gentle Readers,

My gosh it's been a while, but thats kind of how Summer Holidays should be, eh?

After our beautiful tour around Ireland, my parents and I shipped off to The Netherlands to see the illustrious hamlet of Tilburg, where I actually live. Nice place, nice people. But Amsterdam is always a great place and always a fun time, so it was quite exciting for all of us there, staying right off Leidseplein, walking through Vondel Park, the pot, the hookers, the Spui Square, Daam Square, museums, etc etc. Just FABULOUS.

Being back in the USSA is a bit tricky, as I don't know what to do with myself sometimes. But what a hard life I have, it's like 75 degrees and I can do anything I want. How sadddd.

And now for some pictures:

Golygydd Gwasanaethau Ggwybodaeth

2007-07-08T11:32:00.000+01:00

Gentle Readers,

It's been a while since my last post, and I know... the tension and anticipation has probablbeen killing you, but I knew I had to write something of moderate interest for the commemoration of my 20th post.

We continue the saga from the island that springs up from the North Sea like a leprechaun clutching a four leafed clover-Ireland. My parents and I have been arraigned from Holland and the USSA to visit my sister Molly and her boyfriend George in their newish house of the quaint town of Delgany. Delgany is a sweet place, as is the adjoining seaside town of Grey Stones. The rich and famous of Irish people have a penchant for living in this area as well, such as Bono (whose mammoth house/castle wall we drove by).

When you think of the Irish countryside, you don't think of dense patches of forests, but that's exactly what we ran into yesterday, as we walked down a long dual-stone walled road with sheep lining either side, we entered a wooded grotto and walked along to a magical area. A brick and mortar ancient ruin from some bygone, aristocratic age; tea room/hangout spot for the wealthy English (pics will come soon).

Since I am working backwards in my memories, a massive gale ripped through the charming coastal hamlets a couple days ago, by which we resorted to the ever trusted candles and wine to bring us back to our pre-electricity roots.

My best friend in Ireland is a little dog called Lola, who also happens to hold the auspicious title of my sisters dog. Lola is crazy and very loving, always up for being chased around or having her toys taken away from her, then to be hurled at her and chased around the house again; ambushes, assaults, feints within feints, and surging surprise attacks. And if you scratch her in the right way, she'll stop what she's doing and eventually end up splayed out on the floor, trusting you to do all that is required to make her leg kick.

On Friday, we went horseback riding through the beautiful countryside. Stunning vistas laid themselves at our proverbial feet for our eyes to gulp in a multitude of shades of green washed and mixed among themselves until they met with the aqua-turquoise-blue of the Irish sea, while all the while sheep dotted pastures and ancient, knotted lone trees stubbornly raised their branches among the fields of barley. It was great to be back on a horse again, yet my horse was quite a monkey. He was also called Monkey, and kept doing what I didn't want him to do, mainly try to eat everything in sight. But for all his independence, this powerful stallion whisked me on my way and I got a chance to quietly hum the theme from 'The Good, the Bad and the Ugly' and not feel totally out of context.

Having come straight from Dutch student life, and as totally fascinating/entertaining/engrossing watching older people do soduku and drink coffee is, I feel somewhat starved for a more youthful, adventurous and dare I say, slightly more hedonistic company. That being said, it's always very nice to reconnect with my family again, Molly and George making great hosts and my parents being... well, my parents, duh! Yet it's amazing how quick you can reconnect and then want to be back on your way again, eh? ;)

Today we head out into Dublin. Tomorrow we go on an cross island adventure, with the coasts and the dreaded cliffs of county Claire being first stop on our 3 day expedition. I must keep my eye out for some swimming shorts in Dublin because at one of these B&B's, there is an ocean to swim in... and cows to wrangle and milk! My god, that will be exciting. I never realized how starved for animals I was in Tilburg... the only contact I get with them is cats in random windows who think you can pet them through the glass. But alas... glass still remains a static substance in this plane of reality. (haha nice little joke for any Glass haters out there)

Love,
-e

PS Good pictures on the way...

I'm gunna cook drink the HELL out of theis witjne....e/

2007-06-21T23:11:00.001+01:00

Gentle Reader,

Heres an email I wrote to a few of my relatives which sums up some feelings in rant form:

"Cliffs would be cool... And studio stuff. I've been wanting to look at some good mics for a while now...

For me, it dosen't matter where we are, anywhere with you all will feel like home :-)
I just have to make sure the new RH album dosent come out without me knowing about it while we're puttering around.

OK... got a portfolio to make-this school administration is such BS, its like a body where every organ and part has a mind of its own and nothing communicates to eachother: they tout themselves at some free thinking, non-traditional school where you can think for yourself and create your education how you want, and NOW I'm hearing that they want specific results! Ok so... I feel like a blind guy in a forest, with someone telling me "touch the correct tree" and every tree I touch I hear that voice saying "no, not that one..." but absolutely no direction. And the direction i DO get is all in Dutch. Well excuse me, if you wanted me to know that crap why didnt you give me a GD language test? And when I do enquire about all this stuff, remember that body where each organ has a brain of its own and dosent talk to any of the other parts?? Yeah... that in full swing. The only thing thats making me rant like this is the bottle of wine Sven, the filmmaker, gave me.

Oh yeah... today I went to the premier of the film I made music and sound for. There were a lot of Dutch people there, and it was all in Dutch so it was all Greek to me. But the sound and music that I did really was awesome and made me learn a lot about film music and pacing music correctly with a scene. John Williams really does know his junk... and ba-dunk-a-dunk, taadaa!

Ok! Anyway, Ireland. Good. Hanging out. Good. Real food. GOOD.

love,
eric

pS I think i'll put this in a blog post. BTW I got that comment widget John was talking about."

Also, I am tired of all my blonde female friends (who I KNOW are really intelligent) pretending to be stupid so that people will do things for them and think they're just cute and being blonde. If you're one of these people who I know and care about, wtf are you doing? I know you are better then that shit, and I for one know you can live up to what you avoid.

Loves X ∞ =
-e

ps: Its raining BUCKETS here. Quite lovely.

blog comment thing

2007-06-20T21:21:00.000+01:00

I've been told about a comment widget for blogs. What is this thing? Can't seem to get to it on the layout page. Which, as logic states, should be THERE instead of somewhere else.

-e

The most amazing dream

2007-06-20T12:49:00.000+01:00

June 20 07
Amazing dreams this morning.
If I can remember it all... It started out about how Lyssia (my sister) was the nanny for Thom Yorke's kids! That was quite funny. There was some other mumbo-jumbo about my friends back home and being at a bar with Dutch people (or was that a dream?) and then it lead into the exciting part that Michael Mann produced:

My dad and I were in some kind of tropical setting, where the natives of this place were going to overthrow the white people, in revenge for what they'd done to their culture. I guess the plan was to take over the island for a couple days or something. So we were a part of this somehow, and we ended up being part of the big group who was going to overtake everything. They had sharpened spears and torches, throwing nets, clubs, etc. The natives started to line the streets, as there was some kind of big parade that everyone in the town was in... They also promised to kill anyone with their spears who tried to fight. A few pink shirt guys tried to start something with the natives, but they ended up just kind of laughing and I pushed them back into the crowd for fear someone might actually get hurt. Eventually everything started to descend into pandemonium and it became clear there was some kind of war going on. I kept finding people who needed to make appointments at Lens Crafters for some reason.

Then we were in the middle of some huge war game... there was a vast, massive arena and on one side, it was the USA and most western countries and on the other side there was China. There was something going on between them and Tibet, and a giant battle was going on for it. There was such an air of excitement and anticipation in this crowd, loads of people were there... politicians, military people, TV, government, Civil rights groups, there were fires going and songs being sung and further down the slope of the massive bleachers/arena (which became more of a desert on a slope as you went down), the battle was being fought. I remember looking at a TV monitor about how the Tibetans were loosing Lhasa once again, and i saw a live shot from a helicopter of a Chinese soldier running down the hill after this Tibetan boy... They were running SO fast, I felt bad for the soldier because he was going to have to run back UP with hill WITH this kid. Eventually, he caught the kid, and started beating him up. This really pissed me off, and somehow I became the pilot in the helicopter where this shot was being taken. Being in the midst of the battle was chaos; explosions and smoke trails from sniper bullets went everywhere as the smell of cordite attacked my senses... even though I don't know what cordite smells like, unless they put it in fireworks. I jumped out of the chopper, dodged a sniper bullet and grabbed the kid. I think i just pushed over the soldier beating him up. Dream enemy soldiers are pushovers.
(This dream was very children oriented, I have the feeling in a previous dream from the same night there must have been some kids involved as well.)
I jumped in the helicopter with him across my lap and felt the vehicle shake, and realized we'd been hit with some kind of RPG or missile. Didn't do too much damage, but I figured we'd better not let it happen again... So I willed the chopper up as fast as it could, and as high as possible and again, an alarm went off and I saw a rocket trailing us. This time, I positioned myself in a hover right in front of one of the large towers holding up the 'net' (like a driving range net) that separated the arena from the outside world. I waited until the last moment and then quickly moved out of the way and the rocket slammed into the tower. I continued toward the toward the top of the area to deliver this kid to the hospital... and another rocket appeared in the distance. This one I dodged easily enough and let is plow into the ground in some spectacular meneauver. This happened a few times, and let me tell you, it was exciting stuff. I also realized if I saved this kid, my dad would be made president and I would be touted as a world hero. I landed the helicopter and put the kid on a trampoline (it was a hospital, trust me) then I flopped myself down on another trampoline, and the congratulations scene began, swelling orchestral music and all. yayyy yayy. Tibet was free again and little Tenzing-Timmy would be ok!

Very nice to feel useful and hero-like, even if it was a figment of my imagination.

"Got the smell of a local man/whos got the loneliest feeling"

2007-06-19T21:56:00.000+01:00

Well the year is winding down and theres a few loose ends to tie up but the fact is... I'm ready to be done. With school, that is. I mean school for realreal. I feel like this school thing should give you the feeling of some kind of upward rushing, exillerating feeling... not a ball-and-chain, longing to have that lipservice piece of paper that says you know how to do something and get it over with.

This is a fucking problem for me. The problem is that I'm making music that old, intellectual white dudes connect to/and or old people. I want to connect with my friends, family, and generation. I can't really do that in the certain medium I'm involved in at the moment.

The weather outside is (outside) good but the weather in my mind is stormy and questionable... questions linger and frustrations brew.

Now that I think about, its all a bunch of fridge buzz and white noise. Not really that interesting to talk about or indulge in.

In more exciting news, Radiohead producer Nigel Godrich spliced together a bunch of outtakes from the recording sessions of their new album. It might not sound like a lot to a casual Radiohead listener, and not an avid, rabid, obsessed Radiohead-head like me, but from these clips... its gunna be a glorious day when this album comes out. Take a look/listen:

Funny, ha ha, funny how...

2007-06-14T00:59:00.001+01:00

Hello, Gentle Reader,

My tribute to Aussies everywhere. Two videos you might be interested in if you want a laugh... first is mixing two of my favorite things: Radiohead and crazy voice overs, and the other is just making fun of retarded Americans. Which is always a good time.

World, I'm sorry these people exist and that you have to deal with their proverbial afterbirth which they call progress and that their aggregated, pooled tv-watching-drool is running the USA and polluting your minds with shitty sitcoms and horrible movies. It's not the way it should be. Anyway, WATCH THESE VIDEOS! YOU'LL BE SO ENERGETIC AND HAVE 400 BABIES!

best,
-e

ps ƒµ©*ing harddrive isnt mounting anymore... wu du fu is up with this!?

Hard drive alive

2007-06-12T14:43:00.000+01:00

It works again!

Not that this is interesting to anyone except the geeks in the crowd, but I ran DiskWarrior on my external 300GB drive and the directory needed to be rebuilt. All the stuff is still in tact as well. Now about that disconcerting crunching sound coming from it...

-e

Indiana Dreams

2007-06-11T14:21:00.000+01:00

Hey there, Senator,

Another dream last night... still not lucid, but almost there. I had the distinct dream that I was watching Titanic and Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade mixed into one film. Indy and his father were trying to escape the Nazi German owned Titanic, and running from deck to deck trying to outwit the guards; John Williams music and all playing in the background. Then, as if fate would have it, they stared running into bunches of OTHER guys dressed similarly to Indy and his dad, doing the exact same thing; trying to get off the boat. This in turn, (the many duplicate Indys plus dads), made the guards even more suspicious and at that moment I ended up in some desert, surrounded by fantastic red rock structures and formations, as well as giant bones of some long dead, prehistoric beast. I get the feeling that a lot of Dutch people were around there, as if there was some group doing some THING and I just happened to adopt myself into it, yet not really be an integral part of what was going on. I think my Oxford/Dutch friend was there also, but I might be wrong.

This part of the dream was quite literal; In my travels, and in foreign places, I have the tendency to survive by befriending/charming people into letting be a kind of 'add-on' of the group for the duration of however long I'm going to be there. Not that this is a bad thing, but it is the lot-in-life for a drifter... like a lone lionfish in the Kalamari desert.

Dreams are cool.

Personal note: harddrive still not working. Tried putting it in different positions; upside-down, different sides, lying down... Gone. Every backed up thing... gone. Gaatverdamme! Thats a good Dutch way of saying goddamnit!

All the best,
-e

Nice dream

2007-06-10T23:29:00.000+01:00

Evenin', Mayor,

I had a cool dream last night. As some of you know, I've been practicing Lucid Dreaming. "A lucid dream is a dream in which the person is fully aware that they are dreaming while the dream is in progress. In a lucid dream, it is often possible to exert conscious control over the dream characters and environment, as well as to perform otherwise physically impossible feats." Says Wikipedia. It's tricky business... I've only succeeded a few times becoming fully lucid. But practice makes perfect. I can regularly get to the point where I can control my dreams, but I do not realize that I am dreaming.

This particular dream pitted me in some kind of military, super-secret mission. Me and two other fairly normal looking people were to jump out of a C-130 cargo plane and somehow infiltrate the enemy's base. The 'enemy' was a creepy hick with a farm. Somehow I got the feeling it was one of these Texas Chainsaw Massacre hick figure. Hiding weapons of mass destruction, I guess. Anyway the whole significance behind it was less important then just jumping out of a plane, which was exhilarating. It was strange, I heard this recorded message being played, the most direct, non-fluffy directions I've ever heard: "DO NOT HESITATE TO JUMP, OR YOU WILL DIE. IF YOU EAT YOUR EXIT ROPE, YOU WILL DIE INSTANTLY. PULL YOUR PARACHUTE AT 1,000 FEET ABOVE GROUND OR YOU WILL DIE." I've also been reading a book called "Feel the Fear and do it Anyway". So in any other dream, I might have woken myself up at the prospect of a C-130 door opening up for me to jump out of at 20,000 feet, but this was different because I was feeling the fear... but doing it anyway. *coy look*

At this point, I asked the other two people with me "Why are we wearing no protective gear? We're going to freeze at this altitude!" But you tend to forget about these things in dreams, so we just jumped in our normal day clothes. The (all be it fake) sensation of being in pure free-fall now makes me want to go skydiving. I passed through clouds, the wind blinding my eyes and roaring in my ears while I could clearly see the farm I was supposed to land at. My buddies popped their parachutes but i decided to see how low I could go, and when I realized I was getting too low, I pulled the ripcord. I started to float down, but I realized there was a big problem, because there were loads of power lines right below me. And as dreams have a way of getting you out of tight situations, I managed to maneuver myself between them, avoiding their harsh electric spanking.

I came down into a field and I could see the crazy farmer, a dark silhouette running around the place. Fearful that he'd seen me, I stowed my RED AND WHITE (thanks, dream-military for the camo parachute and great intel about our drop zone...) parachute in some bushes and crouched down, waiting for an opportunity to do whatever it was that I was going to do. Yet, the crazy farmer had seen me, and he was not really a person, but more of a shadow... a 2D black void of nothingness, coming closer and closer to me. He obviously knew I was there... Try as I might, I could not get away from him and my cover was blown. Coming closer and closer, he was upon me!-

And then I woke up. The 5 famous words of dreamers all over. It might have been a good idea to figure out what he actually wanted... Usually menacing characters in dreams turn out to be your deepest fears, or simple worries; easy to work out in your dream and for an all positive effect in your waking life.

In other news, my backup, 300GB harddrive has DIED! No life from this puppy. GD Mikal, a good friend of mine and part time computer technician is going to take a look at it, to see if it's a hard crash or a soft crash. Gd-it. This means no more Arrested Development and I won't be able to finish that movie I started watching, "The Fountain". Remember to buy a backup hard drive that doesn't die after 6 months.

Sleep well, and dream lots.

Love,
-e

PS This is what I want to do. Anyone care to join?:

Too much space between our faces

2007-06-09T14:18:00.000+01:00

Dames en Heren, Gentle Readers and confidants alike,

I have successfully completed my first film collaboration. A 30 minute short film thesis was made by two film students, and I created music and assisted with sound editing... and yes, because I end up getting my hands in everything, some of the normal editing. It will be premiered at the Tilburg Film Foyer on June 21st.

In other news, yesterday I saw a phenomenon I had only seen a couple times before; Rain with sunshine. It feels like the world has turned upside down when this happens... some deep, primitive part of the brain feels very wrong about it. Although it does make for some nice viewing. After it started raining, the sun was eventually blotted out and late afternoon turned to middle evening as a huge thunder and lightening storm buffeted the quint hamlet of Tilburg. Blinding flashbulb strobes of lightning accompanied an instant later by massive, ear-ringing, window shuddering, howitzer-like thunder claps rolling and echoing through the city center while Brobdingnagian globs of rain hurled themselves down onto the unsuspecting, soon-to-be-not-so-dry-ground. This sent aquaphobic inhabitants with perfect hair and non water tolerant, generic brand name clothing scurring about; confused with the mixed messages nature was sending them. "We see the happy face, but we feel the angry face!" was surely what was resounding around the walls of their cavernous minds. This reminds me of what my teacher, Willem Jeths, sometimes does when he finds certain music I write to be not up to part with my capabilities; he does this typical Dutch thing of saying the mean guy things but with the nice guy face. "This music is really naive! :) and you should really not be going down this avenue, its just crap! :) :) You know what I mean? Just really bad writing :) :) :)" My id, ego and superego are thusly disarmed and reduced to babbling advisors, unclear as what to make of this confounding display of dualistic, didactisism.

At any rate, I LOVE storms. I also like roller coasters and scary movies. Paragliding and skiing. Do any of you like these things? *50's narrator voice* Think about it, won't you?

All the best,
-E

my favorite Radiohead cover

2007-06-07T11:13:00.000+01:00

note the successfully pulled off dog barking:

HAHAHAHA LOLOL!!!! PSYCH!! BYOB!!RSVPASAP!!!!!!LMAOROFLROFLROLOL!!!iluffyou!!ELOHEL!!

2007-06-06T22:40:00.000+01:00

HAHA wow.

I have some nervous energy I'll be keeping you up to date with.

-e

its Johns fault

2007-06-06T20:25:00.000+01:00

Gentle Reader,

I saw some pictures on my friends blog (John) and he had some pictures that i thought were familiar... look John, we've been in the same place!
so, without any further ah-doo, here's some nostalgia from Brussels. A land before time!

best,
-e

actually, ok, this is the hauge, not brussels, but its a nice picture.

About that time then, eh chaps?

2007-06-05T21:30:00.000+01:00

Welcome, Gentle Reader;

Well it seems like that time again when flowers have been stretching their limbs for some time now, winter clothes get put away to be replaced by the now dominating skirts, shorts and flip flops and… if you happen to be an ex-pat living in the Netherlands, PAPER WORK TIME. This for me, is just a huge headache and it makes me mad. But, what can you do? It’s how we live and although it goes against human nature, it takes less energy to actually fill out the damn forms then it does to sit and fume over them.

Tonight I saw some beautiful (and some not so beautiful) dance performances by the 1st year dance academy students, many of whom are my friends. It was so nice to see them in their element, looking bright and beautiful, executing difficult and precise movements and yet making them look effortless. Well the effort is there in all of them, that's for sure.

On Sunday, I went to a BBQ! But not really the American kind… just chill and laid back, senza giant hog being roasted on a spit. I haven’t eaten meat in almost two months!

Here are some of the friends and good times:

le germans

Laura & Floortje

side

Eva's foot

Europeans.... go figure ;)

Lekker

Even MORE lekker

evening

Eva shoots

We know what life is like in the hood

And then things got shakey

ok! Much love, Gentle Reader. Until next time...
-e

pS any suggestions on how to positively dispell my angry energy towards paper work would be appreciated.
pps Update: the paper work is about my residence permit... renewing it for another year. This kind of thing always turns into a big loop... You need Doc. A and B but you cant get B without A and you cant get A without B. wu du fu.

Thing Gillian never told us

2007-05-28T02:34:00.000+01:00

As I write this, I have the overwhelming urge to take an island hopping trip across the South Pacific. Have you ever dreamed about that? Well one of these days, that dream will become a reality. I have every intention of abandoning everything for a year or so and taking in the scenery down there. Just have a look at these photos of such places as New Caledonia, Tahiti and Somoa.

your ears should be burning

2007-05-27T21:04:00.000+01:00

This post will be divided into titled movements. Read all for the experience of a single symphony, or read the movements individually for an expressionistic, Schoënberg-esk slant on things. Music to listen to while reading the movements is posted as well.

Movement I – Everything Passionate is Red, Including Strawberries, Cherries and Eyes [Sigur Rós, Viorar Vel Til Loftárasá]

Dear Gentle Reader,
I had a grand, romantic gesture planned for a certain pre-special lady in my life… something that would be surprising, unexpected and for sure out of her experience. Worthy of a film, involving a kilo of strawberries, cherries, 2 hunks of melt-able chocolate, and a nice bottle of port. I’ve never done anything like this, so it would be new to me. Well, to spare you the pain and agony, it did not go to plan, thus revealing the illusive obvious face that life can never replicate the movies. In movies, the fact of logistics, bad timing and just plain unforeseen circumstances are always left out. That's the difference. THAT’S why fantasies are fantasies. This wasn’t a major rejection of me, as she didn’t even KNOW what I had planned. After some stewing I decided to have a good, long cry and let this be the catalyst to some other mental bullshit that’s been wandering around in the catacombs of my subconscious. “It's only after we've lost [let go of?] Everything that we're free to do anything” Said Tyler Durden, in the film ‘Fight Club’. This film and another I saw “V for Vendetta” (which I thought was going to be terribly cheesy but ended up being terribly good) are two films I recommend.

Movement II – The Art Equation [Part 1, Philip Glass]

WHICH leads me to my next tangent: These two films are good examples of deep philosophy being played out on a superficial level. What do I mean by this? I am beginning to believe that great and simultaneously [financially marketable?] successful art is simply intellectually deep subject matter with a mask of superficiality over it. Two pop music examples of this are The Beatles and Radiohead: both bands started out fairly simplistic and poppy… their songs, (merely replicas of structures already proven to resonate with large audiences) took their now avid fans to deeper and deeper places. Pablo Honey, The Bends, Ok Computer, Kid A, Amnesiac, Hail to the Thief. These all go deeper and deeper into stranger sounds, more and more eclectic and experimental, and no matter how hard they tried to push away their ‘pop’ audience they just became that much more successful. It is also interesting to note that this can be applied to interpersonal social interaction… have you, Gentle Reader, had the experience of pulling away from someone only to find them return to you? In the social-dynamics world (a PC way of saying Pickup Community), this is called ‘Cat-String Theory’, and it is fairly self-explanatory.

Movement III – Karma has Been Proven [Still ‘Part 1’, Philip Glass]

These two films, which I have recently viewed, do just that… They contain action, sex, romance, violence… everything the brainstem and cortex would enjoy. But underneath all this prehistoric rhetoric are ideas; ideas and philosophies that go much deeper beyond the superficial visualities presented.
But am I forgetting the idea of “les extrèmes se touchent”? The extremes touch each other. The Beatles and Radiohead have their place on the graph, but Philip Glass has the opposite kind of career. If you listen to Philip’s new music, it is the same bumbling repetitions that he's spawned since the mid-90’s. Sad really… there’s a lot he could be doing. But, in the beginning, he was doing almost the opposite kind of thing RH does, but like we can see… the extremes are quite close. He was meddling around with these complex rhythmic structures, and putting traditional, acceptable harmonies on top of these complexities. Radiohead puts obscure, impressionistic lyrics over electronica blues and space sounds. (Notice the trend of white guys constantly stealing brown peoples music and making a financial killing off it?)
But there’s no question about it… Philip makes pretty good movie and background music. Alone, its just 1/2; Paired with a visual aspect, there’s something magical about it you can’t deny.

Movement IV – A Cunning Deception, or a Naïve Frame? [Philip Glass, Façades]

I have noticed a trend in Holland… maybe its just the city, or the people I'm coming in contact with… and that trend is FEAR.
Fear of getting caught?
Fear of true nature?
Fear of standing out?
Fear of conforming?
Fear of love?
Fear of success?
Fear of failure?
Fear of intimacy?
Fear of control?
Fear of lack of control?
Fear of freedom?
Fear of oppression?
Fear of passion?
Fear of being perfect?
Fear of being imperfect?
Fear of culture?
Fear of the unknown?
Fear of advenae?

I'm not saying I have any answers, but only gut level instincts and feelings. That there’s something a bit ‘off’ with this large population. I see beautiful, acceptable people. Twelve-year-old girls who look like they’re 17. I see no rules or restrictions. I see a multitude of boundaries taking the place of those rules and restrictions that in America, might be there. I see groups of people. I see society functioning well. I see money. And then I see the fear again. Something, not just in Holland, but the Western world is going deeply against the grain of human nature. And you can see it in the world; it’s all going to come crashing down sooner or later. In a way, it’s the opposite of America. In another way, it’s the same. Les extrèmes se touchent.

“everyone/everyone around here/everyone is so near/everyone has got the fear/just holding on”
Very revealing, Thom, indeed.

Ok… I'm just about out of ideas! Send comments and all that fun stuff. Thanks for reading!

Best,
-e

PS and now some photos!

plastic bag, middle class, polyethylene...

2007-05-18T16:47:00.000+01:00

... decaffeinate, unleaded, keep all surfaces clean.

Today, I took my crate of empty beer and a couple other I found around the house to Albert Heijn (big grocery store chain) and for €7.30! Theres a this great machine that you put the crates in and it measures weight or something... anyway, its all very good because you get store credit and then you GET money back. I bought bread and coffee, but it seems like everything in Holland is instant, (yes, Gentle Reader, instant coffee, I buy INSTANT COFFEE) prepackaged crap; bent on efficiency and speed. Eating is a dubious chore, not a prized time of relaxation and enjoyment. But, the grass is seriously always greener.

The point of this post was to inform you that I have uploaded a ZIP file of about 76MB worth of the music I’ve made this year, so you can hear what I’ve been up to. I hope this works. If not, maybe someone can inform me of a good FTP site that I can load this stuff onto.

Enjoy,
-e

Eric's music

So whats GD-Eric anyway??

2007-05-18T16:25:00.000+01:00

Some questions about the title "Goddamn eric!" A friend of a friend (whos now my good friend too) well let me start again, this Dutch guy i know is a great guy and everytime he sees me, even if hes talking about something serious, his face will light up with this big shit eating grin and he'll just yell "ITS GODDAMN ERIC!!!" And if you've heard dutch guys yell, they have a very strange, interesting tonality/tambre to their shouting. I dont know how to describe it.

Anyway, when you see "its goddamn eric" you have to think of it being shouted by a happy dutch guy. the end! OK! dilute dilute dilute!

New Orthophony...(Intro, Dance, Birds, etc)

2007-05-18T01:40:00.000+01:00

ok! I'm glad you've heeded my calling, because this is now where you should look if you want to get an inside view into things in my big-fat-Dutch-life and my momentary mental musings, which no doubt you'll be thrilled about when you read them! This is going to serve as an archive and journal of sorts for me, so keep in mind you’re looking into the mind of… me!

This is all my sisters fault, as many good things have been in my life. Her snazzy blog inspired me to follow in her footsteps. And so... I have nothing more to say, other then Ma, Mapa, Molly, Hardy, Greg, Geo, Jacob, Lyssia, Nate, Shannon, Mush-John(for mushy romance), Surra, BIBakers Mike, and everyone else too great and wonderful to mention who happen to read this, *preview announcer voice* GET READY....! for the first post.....

Last night, I performed the vocals for the music I wrote for a dance piece, "Syzygy", in Eindhoven, NL. This was part of the Fonty's Dance Festival and brings to a conclusion my (for now) work and collaboration with Estonian choreographer, Jaan Ulst. This piece has three lady dancers Diane (Swiss), Anthi (Cypritian), and Daniella (German). The piece is supposed to reflect the essence of the feminine experience, yet if two MEN were creating this, I have no idea if we succeeded in this goal, but whatever happened, it turned out to be a fantastic piece and very interesting to look at. And great fun to perform. The music (which I will try to post up here, if I can figure that out) was inspired by… well. You better take a listen and tell me if you can hear any influences ;-). But I got a lot of grief from the team, insisting that the second movement was in fact “country” music. They were worried that people would expect to see line-dancing and crap like that. I roll my eyes at the naïve qualities of Europeans. After a careful query and scrutinizing of audiences (there have been two performances of this piece), there was in no way any sense of line dancing or country music. People obviously don't know what country is. That horrible song, “Watchin’ You” by the brilliantly bad Rodney Atkins is country… what I wrote was probably more blues. In fact the melody is derived from an old Appalachian folk song. Either that or an old Delta Blues melody. Either way, it’s timeless. I remember hearing it when I was about 17 or 18 (back in the day… when I was young and didn’t need my Centrum Silver) and it stuck with me ever since. I remembered only one line of the lyrics, (the whole song was something about how if girls don't obey men then they’ll die… pretty good song, eh!?) so I based the rest of the lyrics on that one line. The original was “The more she gave the more she wept/Till she laid low her sorrow/She’d die for him some other day/She’d die for him tomorrow”. Then for the dance version, I changed and expanded on this little “fragment” or “impression”:

A
The more it gave/the more it wept/till it laid low its sorrow/it’d die for her/but it couldda saved/some tears for late tomorrow
The more she gave/the more she wept/till she laid low her sorrow/it’d die for her/but she couldda saved/the tears for late tomorrow
B
The more its view/the more it wept/no comfort in tomorrow/no point in think/of what couldda been/no peace for those in sorrow
The more she viewed /the more she wept/no comfort in tomorrow/no point in think/of what couldda been/no peace for those in sorrow
C
The more they gave/the more they saw/and they laid low their sorrow/they’d die for that/what they couldda saved/no tears for late tomorrow
D
The more they gave/the more they saw/and they laid low their wishes/they’d die for that/what they always knew/no tears for late tomorrow

The original version I wrote had even more but some words and pronouns needed to be changed to fit with the idea of the dance.

Anyway. That's the second piece I’ve written for dance this year. I hope not the last.

The other day, I heard an awful lot of bird noise out my window… more then usual. I did a little recon and I noticed a really small bird outside… didn’t look like it hit the window, but rather fell from a nest somewhere, while its parents were screeching and flying around above. I chased it around for a bit, flapping wildly and dodging my groping handibles. When I caught it, it let out a terrific screeching cry of help and fear, at which the parents above went so far as to try to dive-bomb me, coming only a meter away from my head. I felt quite bad for this little guy, being so scared in the hands of what it perceived as this huge, massive monster… Its fate in my hands, its destiny at my mercy and will. Is this power? As I contemplated that and warmed the buggie up, I remembered a lament my mother once uttered; something about a horrible fate it would be if avian bird flu or some other avian disease wiped out all birds. How horrible would that be? Never again to hear their music in the trees or see their pecking and scratching in fresh turned earth. Then I got this PETA email about KFC and a video investigation about how horribly they treat their chickens. That made me really sad, and it reminded me of our chicken-raising days back when I was a little kid. I think chickens are my favorite birds. They’re like… chicken! But seriously, I haven’t eaten meat since the beginning of the month, I think. It’s going quite well, actually. It’s actually quite easy to avoid it. Just go to the PETA website and look at the horrific videos of pigs, cows, chickens, in slaughterhouses and foxes, raccoons, rabbits, dogs, cats in Chinese fur farms. That’ll fuck you up for a while.
Anyway… to get back on target, I let the bird go back to its flapping about. What else could I do? I had no idea where its nest was or if it would survive. Its been a few days since that and I haven’t seen it around.

I'm sure he made it back to nest J

Thanks all for now. I’ll get back to it later.

LOTR Rifftrax

2007-05-17T17:53:00.000+01:00

If you dont know rifftrax, its bascially made by the same people who did Mystery Science Theater 3000... total geek stuff where you watch a bad movie and they mock it and rip it to shreads. Now that MST3K is gone, theres rifftrax where they are mocking contemporary movies. You sync up an MP3 and play the movie at the same time, and they should line up.. riffs to the movie. Its pretty damn funny. I just watched Lord of the Rings, heres a good riff...

(as Boromir's boat coffin tumbles over that waterfall...)
Mike: So Boromir recieved an extreme sports funeral...!

I lol'ed for a while. So might you!