I remember very clearly the first time i heard the music composed by Rudolf Escher. I went over to Edwin for dinner. He put on this music which completely enchanted me. I sat there listening with my eyes closed. I’m not sure what Edwin thought of that to be honest, it did feel almost a bit rude to me, but i couldn’t help myself. I fell in love.
I went out and tried to find his music. He isn’t the best known composer. Dutch composer! I did find out he had lived in Rotterdam. He had lost his house and all the works he made up until 1940 in the bombing on Rotterdam 14 May 1940.
I do prefer his chamber music. Lucky for me most of his music is exactly that.
Classical music is a sideline interest for me. It is such a huge field of composers, performers, critics and different areas that it simply is too much for me. I know i could dive in, but i am more into pop and hip-hop and rap and r&b. I do listen to classical music rarely. When i do, i try to really listen. Not read or do anything else. Listen.
So there is this little bit of music i want to share with you. I will listen to it myself over the next days.
This morning i woke up around four. The cat was miaowing outside and scratching the door. I do close it the last weeks because litle Mieke does like to wake me up in the middle of the night with her little paw with those sharp nails. After a while i do go out, walk to the kitchen, stroke her and let her eat some dry cat food. This morning i got out too. And walked to the kitchen.
I went back to bed and put on the light and got my iPad and read a little. Then i got my book and read some more. Modesitt‘s Recluce series now, the books i have. Then i tried to fall back to sleep a bit more. I often fail! At nights i think. Sort of dream awake. No dream is ever the same as another. It is usually the same situation, but each time with a different scenario. Slightly different.
The last couple of days i do fall asleep again in the morning. This morning i had two dreams. Which i remember! This is new, because usually i don’t remember my dreams anymore. But today i did. I made drawings of them. Not terribly successful, but they are still images connected to those dreams. They were not pleasant dreams.
I step on a boat. It is dark. There is water in the boat. In that water is a fish. A flatfish. I'm scared.
I'm standing in a building near a grassfield. I watch the door. Through the door i see a person, a military man. People are walking into the building. They are standing out of sight of the military man. I'm scared.
I don’t know what these dreams mean. But i do see i’m scared in both of them. The last one reminds me of a dream i had much earlier, when i was around 20 years old.
I’m in a building in the Shell swimming pool area close to my parent’s house. There are people lying on a sloping curve, their faces visible. There is a gel like substance flowing over them. Only the people at the top survive. They stand up and walk down over the dead people. It is really frightening me. A nightmare.
Another dream i remember is one i had the night i read The Neverending Story by Michael Ende. The book is so much better than the film. The dream is around 35 years old.
I’m running down a street. I do see the street building up as in run from a grey background. I keep on running into the greyness, but i never fall into it. I do remember walking into a house at one time, but that’s very vague.
The last days i’ve been very tired. I do think a lot too. Nothing fancy pancy, nothing dreamlike. I think i’m on the brink of making a decision. Soon.
Last friday i saw a video on youtube from joyofbaking.com about making chocolate chip cookies. In this recipe it was clearly said you can store the dough in a refridgerator or even in a freezer and back them later. I do buy chocolate chip cookies regularly. So i thought: “I’m gonna try this!”
I got the chocolate chips at a baker closeby. The nuts i got at the Marqt. The sugar i got at the supermarket. The flour, butter, eggs and baking soda i already had. I didn’t get any vanilla extract. To be honest, i forgot about them. But i don’t miss it too much.
260 grams all purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
170 grams unsalted butter, at room temperature
90 grams powdered sugar
140 grams firmly packed light brown sugar
1 large egg at room temperature
250 grams semi-sweet or bittersweet chocolate chips
OK, this is not my favourite Scritti Politti song, but it is interesting. I’ve known this song since 1986, when i bought the album Songs to remember. I’ve been practising getting the words and the order right for years. Nowadays it’s easy, you simply search for lions after slumber lyrics and there it is. Although, i did have to add my own shit. Ha!
So i admit, i still don’t know the entire lyrics out of my head. It is hard, since the structure of the text is so uniform. The rhythm of the song lyrics is less uniform, some words go fast, some go slower. Some go really slow. I still had to sing along with the song itself a couple of times to memorize the entire structure of the song.
I did leave out the instrumental bit. That is the hard part when you sing a cappella. I can do some la la la’s and ooh ooh ooh’s, but with this song i simply didn’t feel like doing that. So i skipped it.
So, even when this song isn’t my favourite scritti song of all time, i do love it. I even made a present with in 2005, Lions after slumber. A fitting name.
I hope you will enjoy this one. 🙂
SCRITTI POLITTI Lions After Slumber
My diplomacy, my security, my hope and my ice-cream
My tomorrow and my temperature, my lips and my selfishness
My cigarette, my uncertainty, my penetration
My notebook and my limit, my importance and my glycerine
My customer, my function, my lawlessness, my charm
My hunger, my refusal, my tissue and my vodka
My ommission, my ability, my telephone and my holler
My relaxing, my distress, my bedroom, my cassette
My dictation and my pulse, my fortune and my death
My flake and my restlessness, my headache and my dirt
My paper and my charity, my rose and my pallor
My guess and my closet, my light ‘n’ my time
My worry, my perversity, my transgression
My temptation and my polythene, my gunshot
My jealousy and my water
My demands ‘n’ my angels ‘n’ my waiting ‘n’ my distance
My death, my curtness, my insulin, my memory
My partner ‘n’ my sadness, my story, my wantoness
My wish, my despair, my erasure, my plantation
My white chocolate, my thoughtlessness, my gracelessness
My courage and my crying, my pockets ‘n’ my mistakes
My body and my sex, my gaze and my helplessness
My letter, my sugar, my homework, my walk
My records, my smile and my struggle
My reflection, my eyelid, my fragility, my discretion
My hair, my austerity, my tattoo, my demise
My fooling and my terror, my problem and my judgement
Oh my disguise, my tongue, my own shit
My ownership, my formula, my property, my thought, my razor
My blessing and my silence, my lust and my practice
My sincerity, my penecillin, my window and my androgyny
My mother, my recorder, my pity and my posing
My light, my carelessness, my drummer, my drummer, my drummer, my drummer
My tenderness ‘n’ my car, my undoing and my history
My bottle and my drugs, my drugs, my drugs
Tomorrow, my temperature, my lips and my selfishness
My cigarette, my uncertainty, my penetration, my notebook
My limit, my importance, my glycerine, my customer, my function
My lawlessness, my charm and my hunger
My refusal, my tissue, my vodka, my admission
My ability and my telephone, my holler, my relaxing
My distress and my bedroom, my restlessness, my headache
My dirt, my paper, charity, my rose
My pallor, my guess and my closet,
my light ‘n’ my time, my worry, my perversity
My transgression honey, my temptation honey
My polythene, my jealousy
My water, my demands, my angels
My waiting, my distance, my death, my curtness, my insulin
My memory, my partner, my refrigerator
My sadness, my story, my wantoness, my skipping
My wish and my despair, my erasure, my plantation, my chocolate
My thoughtlessness, my gracelessness, my courage and my crying
My pockets, my homework
Like lions after slumber in unvanquishable number
A short fable written by Remco Campert. It’s from the book Fabeltjes vertellen, which i have for many many years. It is in Dutch, and my translation skills are not up to translating this. It is a very language specific story, about an ezel who think he is a wezel and an eekhoorn who think he is an eenhoorn. Sorry guys and girls 🙂
These questions i asked on lfs.nl. I did get 716 important answers. On lfs.nl i do say these questions were inspired by Smash Hits, a UK popmusic magazine. These questions were not a part of presents or the things i made before that, they always were a separate section of my website. It started in 1998 and ended 3 August 2006.
My name is
In my pocket i’ve got
and i don’t like
Sometimes I think about
Male Female Not sure
Old Young Not sure
Sad Happy Not sure
It has always surprised how different people respond to these questions. They are fairly innocent. Stuff you have in your pockets. Things you like. Things you don’t like. Things that you think about. And then of course: are you male? female? not sure? old? young? not sure? happy sad? sad? not sure?
These last questions to me were always important. Many people didn’t know how old they were. Didn’t know if they were happy or sad. Some didn’t know if they are male or female. It’s not a big message, it is a little one. Still important.
For the Dutch, peppers doesn’t mean peper. A pepper is a paprika. So, today i’m gonna preserve peppers. Last Saturday i bought four red and four yellow peppers at the market. I also bought a 1 liter pot at the Xenos. It is delicious, no doubt it won’t be a week til they are finished… well maybe two weeks. They are good on their own, with a bit of toasted bread, with mozzarella, with sausages, with tomatoes and pasta. Simply lovely.
I have made these before. Well, not in a pot, but for dinners multiple times. I thought about making them for this website when i saw the Dutch cooking show Koken met van boven (Cooking with from above) last friday. The show is online, but i’m not sure for how long.
Nine peppers on the baking tray. Eight i bought last Saturday, one i already had.
9 peppers, red, yellow or green
garlic, 3 cloves
a hot pepper
optional fresh herbs, like basil
At the first turn
heat your oven to 200º Celsius on a grill setting
put your peppers on a baking sheet high up in the oven
turn them every 15 minutes til they are black all over, count on 4 turns all together
in the meantime, put the pot you want to put the, in a large pot on the stove completely covered with water – cook for around 15 minutes – afterwards put the pot on a clean dishcloth and let it dry
when the peppers are black all around, put them in a plastic bag and turn it tight, leaving them in there for around 20 minutes – this will make them a lot easier to peal
cut the garlic in thin slices
cut the hot pepper in this slices, leave in the seeds
skin the peppers, take out the center piece and tear them in big pieces, make sure the inner fluids are drained
start filling the pot by putting in a bit of olive oil first, then layer like three to four pieces of pepper, put garlic and pepper on them, a bit of freshly milled black pepper and a bit of salt, put on a bit more oil and repeat until you are out of pepper
at the end, make sure all the peppers are covered with oil
All done and ready to get a bit cooler and loosen up those skins for around twenty minutes
I mentioned buying her album A Distant Shore in 1983 in the Memories post in June this year. I loved it when i bought it, and i still love it now.
I also do enjoy her writing. I haven’t read her books yet, but i’m sure i will some day. I do read her column in the New Statesman.
This song Plain Sailing is about how your life will never be that, plain sailing. It simply doesn’t exist. I don’t think you should want it anyway. It is an illusion. Even if you are happy, with friends, with someone to love, with work in your life, there are always rocks and dry periods and sandbanks to try to get you off course. You simply have to deal with that.
My wise words for today 🙂
Plain Sailing – Tracey Thorn
Meetings arranged, they say, never work out
I say we’ve proved them wrong without a doubt
I can’t remember now just what we said
I never could have guessed what lay ahead
As I ran towards you up the stairs
Did a voice in my ear cry, ‘Beware’?
Even now I’m surprised you recall
Such a short time it took me to fall
Pretending that my heart still lay elsewhere
When in truth I had long ceased to care
For what I thought I’d never replace
Til in my heart you left him no space
You say, you wonder what was it I saw?
I say ‘Oh, I don’t recall anymore’
My first impressions have been left behind
Replaced now by feelings and more lost in kind
Sure that you know but you never can tell
When I think I understand you so well
Shakes me that you were a constant surprise
Or so you appear in my eyes
Tempting to think now it will all be plain sailing
Old enough now to know there’s no such thing