Levi’s Bloaaaahg

Here’s Sunday 29 June for you. Very quickly. Train to Amsterdam. Tram to house. Meet up with Rob, Lisa and Lois. Go to Vondelpark. Drink Wine. Meet up with Hanneke and friends. Enjoy Hit Me TV. Drink more wine. Enjoy Voicst. Drink even more wine. And more. Enjoy sun. Drink beer. And wine. Go out for pizza. Wait for pizza. Arrange two tickets to Ben Folds. Get back and eat pizza. Go to Paradiso. Miss the support act. Drink beer. Help Rob score a chick. Doesn’t work. Drink more beer. Wait, is there still beer left? Drink that as well. Enjoy Ben Folds. Drink even more beer. Help Rob stand straight. One song encore. Sing “Ben Folds is gay, ole ole!” on the way out. See two Irish guys. Convince us to go for a beer with them. Drink beer. Drink a shot. Drink another beer. Go home. Talk in a hyperactive, hysterical tone to Lois about Ben Folds. Still rambling on. I need to go to sleep.

Fricking awesome day that was.

And that’s that. We lost. To Mother Russia.

For all those loyal Dutchies that read this English blog, I am going to make your life easier again. Today, I decided to also write in Dutch. However, this doesn’t mean that I will be writing the same shit in English and Dutch. No way, Jose. But I’m giving you the opportunity of choice. I guess that’s fair.

Levi in Dutch

What if you would take a picture, each day of your life? There is this guy who actually did this from 1979 up on till his death in 1997. Jamie Livingston gave the rest of the world the opportunity to witness 18 years of his life in polaroid. Do look up the picture of your birthdate (if you’re not born before 1979 or after 1997). And then look at the picture and let your mind drift away. Think of a story that fits.

These two people are tired after a night of partying. It seems like some sort of exposition. On the right there’s a picture of a piece of film. Nice coincidence.

Disclaimer: I shamelessly stole this great stuff from Dieuwer.

I was a fan of his writing. His last column, called deadline, was very straightforward. I didn’t even know he was ill.
A band called A Balladeer based their first single on his son, Sam. The basic inspiration for this was a novel called ‘Held van beroep‘ (Hero by occupation).

so if someone wants to know
and asks you where I am
you say you saw me go
for a swim with Sam

Rest in peace, Mr. ‘Jacky’.

Some people have a talent, a gift. And they know how to use it. One of these people is Conor Oberst, singer and frontman of Bright Eyes. Conor wrote his first song at age 12. At age 25, he already released 10 albums. That’s a number most bands can only dream of.
In January 2005 he released two completely different albums at the same time: I’m Wide Awake, It’s Morning, which has an acoustic, folk style and Digital Ash In A Digital Urn, which has a predominantly indie vibe. After releasing Cassadaga in 2007, there are no more doubts left about the capabilities of Oberst: he is an absolute wonder-child. The press state him as the new Dylan. When confronted with this, Oberst turns red, looks down and then mumbles a quiet thank you. Although he sounds aggressive in his music, in real-life he is nowhere near that. He pretends to be just another shy, depressed emo kid.
I met him once. It was the summer of 2007. He looked happy and joyful in his white suit, making jokes along the way. Between pauses there was lots of room for smiles. He took them. I can still remember the words he spoke to me. Like I’ve recorded it on my brain’s hard disk.

When panic grips your body and your heart is a hummingbird
Raven thoughts blacken your mind until you’re breathing in reverse
All your friends and sedatives mean well but make it worse
Every reassurance just magnifies the doubt
Better find yourself a place to level out

In a way, we’ve all met Conor that night. Me and the 1,000 other people that witnessed his concert at the Melkweg.