November 13, 2006 - Monday

November 13, 2006 - Monday
a blathering update
Some of you are probably waiting for some kind of update as to my life here in Holland – or as some call it 'The Nether-Region'. Hard to explain without putting many of you into a deep, comatose sleep. I've been couch-surfing amongst very kind and generous family members. Well two so far. I got picked up by my uncle in Utrecht and then began a serious regimen of decompression. This pretty much entailed laying around, surfing the net, watching the James Bond festival they've been having here on Station Veronica, and recording a few songs that I'd written, and suddenly realized I ignored basic rules of rhythm to create.

Goldfinger was special as far as Bond movies go; probably the weirdest and least relevant of the Connery flicks. Basically, he doesn't do anything towards saving the world aside from making snarky comments about people's behaviour, repeatedly and unnecessarily annoying his enemies, getting imprisoned, getting knocked-out cold about five times, and generally fucking-up what probably would have been a simple mission – all the while trying desperately to get laid. In the end it was Pussy Galore (pronounced 'poo-see') who saved the day, the world, and Fort Knox.

But really, who cares?

Now at my Grandparents and marveling at the Dutch national obsession with speed-skating. That sport where men and women with disproportionately keg-sized thighs zip in a smooth, gliding motion around a slick ice-track dressed in – what appears to be – very large prophylactics and mal-fitting Oakley shades. Not sure what that's all about; except the Dutch get overly giddy about the thing. I would too… if it was full contact with, say, tar-filled ditches on either side of the track.

Perhaps it's the flatness of the ice-track that appeals to them, reflective of the general flatness of the country. And the country is flat. I'm positive with the right amount of upper-arm strength and excellent momentum you could bowl a ball from one end of the country to the other – probably wouldn't get away with it though as it's not 'The Dutch Way' to attempt stunts that haven't been tried before.

Stunts that have been tried before include: eating a quivering raw herring covered in onion bits, making-like-a-big-turd-being-flushed in one of the aquapark rides, and allowing doors to swing back and slam into large women's faces.

'The Dutch Way', in my best estimation, is extreme cleanliness, non-violence, bicycles, and cheese. Or maybe that's just my family. Nice thing to eat fresh produce for a change though. I often raved about the food in the Czech Republic but now I've remembered it's possible to have a decent meal that hasn't been deep-fried.

The Czechs could probably learn something from the Dutch but they're still pissed at them for stealing all of their vowels – one of the little known historical tidbits that put a serious damper on the Czech 'Golden age' – some centuries ago.. Well, these things happen, and you have to get over it. Other things they could learn include: helping strangers, having clean public toilets, properly paved roads, and the proper execution of the certain consonants for maximum breadth and distance of spittle spray.

I haven't gone out anywhere yet and therefore have little to no idea about what Dutch people look like aside from my immediate family and the odd person that passes in front of my grandparent's picture window. Those people, for the most part, look cold; with gritted teeth and hunched shoulders. Or perhaps they are grimacing from a recent overlong conversation and are now damp in bitter weather…

Nasty, nasty business, and totally uncool as I, myself am Dutch; this is apparent by my name, height, and ability to eat chocolates bits covering a margarine-laden slice of bread.

Maybe next time you read this I will have gone out and actually done something.

But all this is becoming garbled nonsense so I shall stop now.