Levi’s Bloaaaahg

Obama won. College Humor gave us an insight on how the world would look if Obama’d won. And also if McCain’d won. Which one is the scariest? I don’t care anymore. I’ve had enough of it. Well, almost. Tomorrow, me and my friends are going to party U.S. style. There better be a keg.

So. In one day we will know who will be the 44th president of the United States. The entire world is counting on the American people, that they do not make the same mistake. Again. If the world could vote, the results would be very clear. America, we beg you: do not let us down. Again.

The guys gave me an Eddie Murphy DVD, “Delirious”, for my birthday. There’s this one point in which he explains that people try to re-enact his shows and jokes and they always fuck ‘em up while doing this. And he’s absolutely right. Ask yourself, dear reader, “have I done this?”. The answer is most likely yes. Hell, I’ve done it several times. And probably ruined brilliant pieces of cabaret for other peoples by trying to “get the voice right”.
I only nailed one thing, while re-enacting, and that is the German part from Hans Teeuwen’s last stand-up show. It seriously gave people chills down their spines. That’s a good thing. Probably.
But Eddie has the solution. He gave the audience one joke that people can tell their friends. One simple joke, everyone can tell, without messing up a good piece of comedy for the rest of the world. So, to humor you, here it goes:

A bear and a rabbit are taking a shit in the forest. Says the bear to the rabbit:
“Do you have problems with shit in your fur?”
“No.”, says the rabbit.
“Good.”, says the bear and he wipes his ass with the rabbit.

Hm. The joke is probably better when spoken. Shit. Did I just ruin a joke that can’t be ruined?

Last Saturday I had a party for my friends and family in honor of my 23rd birthday. That was nice, but the actual birthday feeling wasn’t there. Maybe because my real birthday was yesterday. But the problem is, that on my real birthday, the feeling was nowhere to be found either.
So, I’m aging, without the feeling of aging. Suppose there’s nothing wrong with that? Guess again. It’s the whole point of being the center of attention (I’m a total slut for attention) and everyone congratulating you on how good you look, even if you just added up a number. And there were only two people who could congratulate me in person yesterday; my roommate and my girlfriend. And they both got me really great gifts.
I had to work a night shift and none of my colleagues had the slightest idea that was my day. In fact, no one even probably knew. But before the clock stroked 9 a.m. I got 2 phone calls, 5 text messages and 5 messages on Hyves. Decent score.
Later that evening, I went for sushi with Lois. She told me that she was a bit jealous of me. That there are so many people that like me.
“One of your friends called all the way from the States, your roommate’s little brother called you from the Middle East. You got tons of text messages, phone calls and e-mails. People really like you.”
“I like it when people like me. I try to be like-able. In fact, some people don’t like me for that. I sometimes don’t like myself for that.”
But she’s right, I shouldn’t bitch about it. I got so many happy birthday wishes yesterday, I didn’t even get the chance to thank everyone. So. Everyone: thank you. I like you all very much.

Oh jolly, I just remembered a conversation I had a couple of weeks ago. This dude came up to me and told me my shoes didn’t match my trousers. I looked down at my light brownish pants and my blue shoes. Looked perfectly fine to me. I then stared at the dude and told him: “How am I the one to take fashion advice from a guy who’s wearing a fricking tweed jacket with leather fricking patches on the elbows?”
There. I said it. Well, without the fricking. But the message was clear.

They way people dress, says a lot about their personality. These days, one can buy shirts/pants that say the most awkward things. Some of those texts on t-shirts are really funny and actually suit the person that wears it. For instance, Robbert. He has a shirt that says “If found, please return to the pub”. For people who know him, this is a pretty obvious statement. Marco has a shirt with “I did Paris Hilton” on the chest. This also resembles him, because if he were to get laid, it probably be by a hussy Paris Hilton type. Earlier this week, I spotted two girls at Amsterdam Central Station. They were not a day over 14. One of them wore a shirt that said “2 hot 2 handle” and the other one had “juicy” spelled over her butt-cheeks. I seriously beg to differ.

Stewie: How you uh, how you comin’ on that novel you’re working on? Huh? Gotta a big, uh, big stack of papers there? Gotta, gotta nice litte story you’re working on there? Your big novel you’ve been working on for 3 years? Huh? Gotta, gotta compelling protaganist? Yeah? Gotta obstacle for him to overcome? Huh? Gotta story brewing there? Working on, working on that for quite some time? Huh? (voice getting higher pitched) Yea, talking about that 3 years ago. Been working on that the whole time? Nice little narrative? Beginning, middle, and end? Some friends become enemies, some enemies become friends? At the end your main character is richer from the experience? Yeah? Yeah? (voice returns to normal) No, no, you deserve some time off.

Stewie (his voice getting progressively higher): Oh I know it hurts now Brian, but look at the bright side: you have some new material for that novel you’ve been writing. You know…the novel you’ve been workin’ on? You know the the one, uh, you’ve been workin on for three years? You know the novel. Got somethin’ new to write about now. You know? Maybe a, maybe a main character gets into a relationship and suffers a little heartbreak? Somethin’ like what… what you’ve just been through? Draw from real life experience? Little, little heartbreak? You know? Work it into the story? Make the characters a little more three dimensional? Little, uh, richer experience for the reader? Make those second hundred pages really keep the reader guessing what’s going to happen? Some twists and turns? A little epilogue? Everybody learns that the hero’s journey isn’t always a happy one? (Voice returns to normal.) Oh, I look forward to reading it.

In the Netherlands, we’re not allowed to smoke inside bars from now on. Here’s a little impression.

The streets are fun.

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’.

Dialogue this morning:

French drunk tourist: “Salut mon ami. Ca va?”
Me: “Ca va bien.”
French drunk tourist: “Where is the train station?”
Me, making a turn around gesture: “La bas, mon ami.”

Fricking tourists.

When the routine bites hard and ambitions are low

Here’s one for ya: why am I feeling so fricking fricked up, while I shouldn’t?

(very, very deep sigh)

Watching this movie isn’t particularly helpful, but in its sadness lies such beauty. In three days it’s been 28 years again. I’ll promise a beautiful short essay for then. For now, I’m gonna go swallow in self pity.

Yesterday, I was walking back home from RAI station after an evening of working. A guy was strolling before me. I was busy talking to Lins on the phone when I past him, but still he called me.

“Hey man, I need some help. I’m completely lost”

So I told Lins I’d call her back and hear the man out. He looked a bit like Leo meets Catweazle. This ought to be interesting, I thought to myself.
I heard him out. Apparently, he was from Johannesburg, SA. He got mugged in a hostel here in Amsterdam, and lost all of his money and credit cards. The only things he still had were some clothes, two telephones and a diary. He went to the police with that story and they found out some places for him where he could crash for little money. His friends were coming to town this weekend, so he just needed a place for two nights.
At the first hostel, he got rejected for being too old. At the Jellinek, he got rejected for not being a (total) crackhead. At another hostel, he got rejected for not being a Catholic.
So he was pretty desperate. He walked alongside of me and we talked about linguistical differences in Afrikaans and Dutch and about computer hardware and software.
When I reached the point where I had to turn right, we said our goodbyes. I gave him some money for food and a smoke. He told me I was the first person, other than the police, to pay him any attention. He knew that it was probably because of the way he looked. But after a couple of years in Amsterdam, I’ve learned one thing: do not judge people on their appearence.

Hi, my name is [insert name speaker here], and I am an alcoholic.

And they call it Alcoholics Anonymous. Anonymous? There’s nothing anonymous left after the introduction.

Yes, I am strangely bothered by this kind of meaningless, random stuff. And no, I do have a life.

Question: What is a pronoun?

Answer: A noun that lost its amateur status.

It’s worth a shot. Maybe you’ll get extra points for originality.

So. I’m taking a course called ‘publiceren via nieuwe media’ (which actually kind of means what I’m doing right now). The main topics are hypertext and linking. "No problem", I can hear you think out loud. 

"Yes problem", is my response. Why the hell are we learning things about so called ‘new media’ from scientific articles written almost a decade ago? Can’t you see that scientists are almost always wrong (there’s always an article seconding the one written first)? Can no one understand that it is outdated to talk about the fact that one should be careful how to write in hypertext? That you shouldn’t be ambiguous when linking? And that usability is very important?

Who came up with that? Well, these are a few of the rules thought up by this guy. And oh my god. What is it that I see on his site? No, it couldn’t be true. Is he really? 

Yes, he is. He really is breaking his own rules. And already on the frontpage. Kudos, Mr. Nielsen, kudos.