21 Nov 2008 Been in the real world for about a year now. She is a mom, you can tell by looking at her face and body that she was not born for an easy life. First I was annoyed by the way she took up space. Different takes on the appearance. On raising a child. On work ethics. What an idiot I was. To be continued.
9 Nov 2008 Huh? I've been collecting strong statements lately. Coming from loved ones they are impossible not to wrap myself around and feel their warmth, the smoldering ashes. The strong guys (m/f) produce emotionally driven and sculpted statements that are basically an invitation to come close to who they are and allow me to gently touch their vulnerabilities and anger, shyly exposed in front of them. We share our knowledge and drink the wisdom. Some are firmly based in their field of interest, some are leaping from stone to slippery stone in a muddy river. I ought to be at the market right now, and browse through fabric stands in search for a few meters of cotton, off-white and textured. After I bring the cotton home in plastic bags I cut it in rectangles, and put them on my wooden floor. Then I will mix three colors of acrylic paint: a decent amount of burnt umber, red and a puddle of black. With a wide brush I will write the following onto the fabric: THEY HATE ART and THEY WON'T, BUT EXPECT US TO GIVE IT UP and SEE IT IN PERSPECTIVE. I will hang these banners from the balcony and let them float in the wind and they will set the marks for me to follow, air, air, knowledge and shy wisdom.
7 Oct 2008 The Everything is in music. How patheticfuckingly true. What was it again? True and pure are contradictory? Contradictatorial. Living the smalltown life means having to be prepared for sudden get-togethers: I cut from scene to scene, talking maillots one minute, chewing on shii-take in smoking-ban challenging bar the next. The people stick like gum on the vibrating, slow party scene, while their children grow and seasons morph into unclear planes of stretched states of weather and temperature. I wonder what the earth is exhaling now. It seems to be holding back dramatically..... You've got to pull it inside you, and make it crumble. Sometimes I wish I was a teacher. Earthlings can use some education on how to be less petty, slanty-eyed, parasitic, jealous, closed off, putty filled halo carrying persons who point their fingers faster than I can type. But I, alien, suspect that all that is part of living life too, small- or hugetown. Megatown. Gigatown. Gigopolis. Da Life In Da Roes In Gigopolis, #1. Now I quit this text.
22 May 2008 I just got back from a rehearsal/soundcheck at a former factory, where tomorrow night we will put pieces of a puzzle together and bridge the gap that has been binging and purging, expanding and slimming down since the end of last year. Our first gig since the birth of the twins! The rock solid basis we have built over the past years turned out to be crunchy, roadblocks here and there, but beaming with life and truthful intentions. We drank Jupiler and I felt immediately drunk after one tiny baby bottle of the sweet beer. Soundchecks can be awkward with too much other entities in the room, at one point we had to ask them to leave but after a while they slowly crawled back inside. A girl with pink hair, a guy who told me he liked my guitar playing and then made a reference to Kim Deal, and we were sweating and trying to fabricate a playlist. The new one? Not the new one? I love the new one. It could be rock and roll as hell. More shit to deal with tomorrow, I like those last bits that are like dust flakes or grains of sand you pick up from the floor, and just before you throw them gently in the garbage you watch the clean, empty space on the floor in a split second. I will have to buy a thousand guitar picks tomorrow, obviously they have all vanished..... Gam went to feed the twins and I walked home along the river, on the wrong side of the road and the cyclists blinded me with their lights. I still, still, still have a hot trashy love connection with this strange town. Mud beer town....
24 March 2008 Rock Dreams. Two days ago one of my dear friends alluded to the fact that we are living in a fast time, not always able to keep up with the pace of change. I agree. No one is a race horse. Yesterday I found myself celebrating the slowness of painting during a telephone call. I think painting, like sex, is an act close to the actual stopping of time. Years ago, when The Skills had not quite taken on their present shape (we had just met and explored the early stage of a careful friendship) we were drawn closer during our visit to a city that had transformed into a themepark: Art As A Market For The Masses!!!! (No dancing allowed.) I experienced AAAMFTM as a cycle of hasty walks to the city hotspots, balancing my desire for drifting away with the wish to find moments of socially enhanced fun, with or without downing a modest amount of wodka. I tried to dedicate every fucking second of being there to something within the frame of being the visitor, the focused one, the studious one, the shy one. So much to see and only so many seconds left..... until my future bandmate let me in on a little wisdom: she rebelled against the agressive Fast. Sometimes a human needs time to think. To decide. To take one step to the left instead of running forward like a cartoon tornado. We sat down and ate the olives and bread (o so biblical a connotation) we had bought at a Turkish supermarket. So yeah, she won me over. And this little yet significant moment stayed with me all those years, while the memories of the big-bold-gestures at AAAMFTM have become pale and static. Art is everyday, every moment, every second. Fast, slow, the future, present and Past. Kissy!
31 December 2007 10:37 and 10:38 pm, Rotterdam. 
30 November 2007 And as the days get shorter, the two Fruits Of Love get bigger... the F.O.L. are in someone's womb, untouchable for now and only visible with the help of electronic devices or our imagination, but they are present and very much loved, already. In my earlier days I feared that the cycle of life would somehow fail to adress me, but now I know I will be part of it, be it as a 'super auntie', or 'mommy and daddy's best friend'. I like both the titles. I want them made into a gold necklace so I'll be able to show the world that, I too, matter. Bling!
29 september 2007
ugly betty?
betty ford?
bette davis?
bettie serveert?
beth ditto?
sarah bettens?
betty bodenhausen?
betty de buck?
24 january 2007 'Or is that one of your little pop culture references that i don't get because i'm a vengeance --' is one of my favourite quotes ever. it's taken from an episode of a vampire infected show: the moment when vengeance demon A starts expressing her irony towards The Buffster, and the moment she describes herself she gets decapitated. spicy. that show always had a good pace and good timing. when i was little i never believed in sinterklaas, because my parents explained that he was a big fake and there was no way that he could ride the rooftops on his horse and throw presents throught the chimneys. so there i was, a five year old trying to convince her classmates and school teacher that it was all a lie, and i expected my teacher to back me up but all she did was trying to convince me that i was the one talking shit. but somehow i do believe in buffy, and if i had enough money i'd book a ticket to sunnydale* and get her to be my best friend. all i'd have to do is look helpless and dark and not too sexy (never outshine the heroine!) - well, i can totally do that. and i kick ass at 'little pop culture references', although my knowledge had probably become weird, since i'm out of cable tv. i'll have to rely on my memory and hollywood-celebrity-blogs but that's a vortex i'll gladly surrender myself to! see: all grown up, now waiting patiently for the big 3 and watch the sword coming down onto my skull. yee-hah!
*pre-apocalyptic sunnydale, somewhere around season IV - V.
18 december 2006 after i got stuck in a muddy part of town -the microcosmos of bars, broken up relationships, too much red wine, the art of unsuccesful courtship, recycling the past and craving gossip for lunch- i managed to climb out of this puddle of sadness and started cleaning my boots. i don't need that crap. with a lovely friend i escaped to paris (the city, not the "heiress"/"american princess" -so not hot enough for me) where the, like, bestest band of the friggin' world, like, played and stuff. there was a hot dude who made a sound with his guitar and this chick with the golden dress totally rocked. hott! anyway, the last song almost made me cry. i love you sonic youth. and that city that begins with a p. from now on, i'll try to avoid the bad things in life and be a good girl!
14 november 2006 some words from someone who's been living under a blanket the past years (that would be me, fashionably old wanna-be rock star -not familiar with the internet and its miracles): i've been trying to work on a myspace thingy for the skills (www.myspace.com/skillsrock) but i can't seem to get it right. it's a very burgerlijk system anyway because they want you to make friends and be happy and you're not allowed to put images of naked body parts on your account. or maybe if you pixellate them? like square dicks ('n haircuts---it's a reference to a song that has to be written yet and will partly be done in antwerp).....-sigh- i miss the summer already. o well. by the way, what's UP with these young, pretty boys desiring to be our groupies and drummers all of a sudden? don't they know we're actually a lesbian couple with fear of failure and that the only reason we work with drummers is the fact that we can fire them after some time? geeez.
30 september 2006 'leave him alone, 'cause the boy's bad news' is a very beautiful guideline which has to be applied to everyday and especially everynight-life. but, if it wasn't for the sweet taste of bad yearning, most of our musical and visual work would never ever have seen the daylight. so, indeed, it's not only about hotties and cuties (ya know), it's also very much about anti-heroes and forbidden fruits. unfortunately those tend to be the hottest and cutest. i hate the full moon. (but love you all)
1 july 2006 i am a huge fan of old dutch expressions, for instance the one about the importance of relaxation. (which contradicts the remains of our calvinist background that so many people, when it gets stuck to their sandals and leaves traces all over the hallway that can't be erased, still seem to honor and cherish) -clean your shoes, you lovely creatures, it's SUMMER! anyway. our new high is based on an old principle: take out the trash, take it outside..... well, outside and then inside again, especially inside a ladies'gym ('cause i'm a laaaady) and work that poor, alcohol-and-nicotine-drenched body until you step out on the streets untrashed, with glowing skin and muscles of steel. and holding your guitar with only two fingers. and play like a divine heart(rock)body. welcome back, pat bateman, we love the eighties! within weeks we'll be making cheap, clean, materialist, synthy discopop that serves as an exterior layer over a world that's rotten to the core. as i said, it's summer, let's enjoy flipflops, sandals, bikinis, short dresses, muscles and relaxation. i guess we deserve it. adios!
10 january 2006 a very happy new year to you too! in an empty room we drank golden whisky and listened to music, full of grace and pain. the smoke from our lips filled the space, where in very little time ghosts from the past would mimic our gestures, over and over. but we didn't stay. although our escape involved a car that completely broke down and a relationship that almost completely got broken up (hurray for superglue!) we managed to start this year in places where we belong and feel good. gam already painted her new floor with the help of s., an obscure artist/drummer who rents a studio space where we suddenly found ourselves playing and singing and yelling in da mic. that kinda stuff. you know.
23 september 2005 since everyone here in the south is more than fed up with repeatedly having to listen to 'veilige hoes' and 'white leather jacket' we are shining our swords and chastity belts and planning a big quest: our metallic white horse will take us to the the happening places in the two lovely dutch big cities where they have skyscrapers and oysters in black bean sauce. at least that's the plan. in the meantime we will expand our territory: from next year on gam can be found in/at amsterdam bars, supermarkets, soirees and oh well, everywhere because our girl is moving there. it's only strategy! more soon.
1 december 2004 xxx for everyone who needs it. the end of the year is knockin' on some doors and things can get pretty cold and dark, i know. and i don't know what the fuck's going on in this year of the monkey, but someday it will be hip to be individual and smart and dress elegantly bohemian. and then we'll all go search for the truth. just try to survive until then.
2 november 2004 how cute: film makers get killed and we try not to mix artistic beliefs with political awareness. we're not that kind of artists, we play by the rules of the sensitive, the intuitive, the imaginative. but it can get damn rotten sometimes. and that's all i'm gonna say about it. today we celebrate one of the skills' birthday. deep, down and dirty! november the 14th we'll play at an opening up north, but we broke our equipment... help, anyone!
30 august 2004 trend: the purpose of summer festivals varies from enjoying music and beer to, well, gathering mud on your boots and wear it with pride as you would with the latest fashion item. i myself am showing off no less than two layers of festival mud (belgian and dutch) stuck to my vintage (two euro's) eighties fake cowboy boots.
28 july 2004 the skills... nu nog minder vet!
26 july 2004 so i guess we're online then...
... need we say more? 
photo by Jean-Baptiste 
