Category: My brain is a pain

The Bridge City Sinners – Trefpunt Ghent

September 22nd had been excitedly marked in my calendar since April, when I saw Clyde McGee open for Pete Bernhard. As with Pete, I knew the band by music, but not the individual members, so I only found out Clyde was one of The Bridge City Sinners on that fateful day in Hulshout. He told me about the Sinnersโ€™ European tour in September and October and I was BEYOND stoked to see a Belgian date. I was even more thrilled to be able to share this experience with my newfound friends Iโ€™d acquired through the synchronicity of music since his solo performance.ย 

I was planning on taking an entire day to get ready, dolled up and taking my sweet time going to Ghent. Afterwards driving on to the Belgian coast for a much needed holiday. Alas, fate decided otherwise as an unforeseen and also unmissable event was planned on the same day. My stress level was through the roof in the weeks and days beforehand trying to get my head around a literal (no, really!) rollercoaster of a day into a night where I had to drive myself to a city I didnโ€™t know very well. Let me tell ya, all that stress was so fucking unfounded, when I think back on it now it is almost amusing. 

The day of started earlier than usual and I faced fears I had talked myself into over the years. I used to be brave and fearless, but over the last years depression and battle with neurodivergence had made me small. Small and afraid of EVERYTHING. Doubting I could do ANYTHING. The day was a therapy group outing to an amusement park and to say I was DREADING all of it would be the understatement of the century. Luckily, therapy is teaching me how to face my fears head on. So I did. In line for the first roller coaster, I was hopping from one leg to another, thoughts racing this way and that. I eventually decided to just get over it and DO it, and got on the fucking roller coaster. It was scary at first, but then it was EXHILARATING! After that, I still felt a little trepidation getting on a new coaster, but by the end of the day I was unstoppable. I had faced my fears and WON, telling my brain to shut the fuck up and it actually shutting the fuck up. I had an AMAZING day and was living on adrenaline alone. 

In getting home, the adrenaline unfortunately wore off and I was tired from all the mental and physical gymnastics of the day. So getting ready for the show felt like I was moving in slow motion while getting anxious again for the drive through traffic and rain, on a road I was not familiar with, in a time frame that would mean I would almost definitely miss the opener. I was sad but resigned to the fact that I wouldnโ€™t get the full experience of this night I had been looking forward to for almost 6 months. 

I managed to get my ass on the road eventually and powered through those fears to eventually arrive at my destination. In a daze, I hurriedly speed walked from my parking spot on the outskirts of Ghent to the venue, when I abruptly stopped in my tracks in awe of this quote on the building. Good thing I halted, because in my haste I had almost run past where I actually needed to be and made myself even later.

First I feel I need to emphasise what an AMAZING place Trefpunt is. As if I wasnโ€™t sweaty enough already from the walk there, the indian-summer heat inside was enough to almost melt me away. So yeah, it was sweaty as fuck, punk as fuck but filled to the brim with a merry band of misfits that oozed Purple vibes. It felt like coming home to a room full of strangers. And then I spotted my musical friends I made this year and the last ounce of stress and self-doubt fell off of my sweaty shoulders. I HAD MADE IT!

I even made it in time for the opener Tuesday Violence and HOLY HELL I am so glad I did. A three headed band started during lockdown. You have Daveney, originally from the Netherlands but emigrated here 9 years ago, on drums & vocals. Bruxelloise Crystal is on organ (!) and vocals and Niels from Ghent is on guitar. The sound they produce together is almost indescribable. I wrote it up as incredible punk & roll but they describe it as primitive garage punk. Call it what you will, I will just refer to their sound as extraordinarily FANTASTIC. Crystal & Deveneyโ€™s voices were reminiscent of some of my favourite female punkers, like Brody Dalle & the ladies from Maid of Ace. The energy of their set was exhilarating and set the pace for the rest of the night. 

Crystal, Deveney and Niels + yours truly

Aside from being fired up on stage, they were super nice and kind off stage. I got to talking to Deveney & Crystal who told me all about how they started and the amazing backstory on that beautiful organ she was playing on stage. My reference to Maid of Ace (another experience I still have to write about) led to vague plans for a possible ALL FEMALE (and Niels) double bill of both Tuesday Violence & the Maids at the Black Flamingo! (Fingers crossed we can set this up for 2024.) 

In the meantime: check out Tuesday Violence newly released album!

Talking to these ladies was such intriguing fun, we almost missed the start of The Bridge City Sinners set! Time to run back in and claim a place for a piece of musical history Ghent will not soon forget. My lackadaisical approach to picture/video taking should tell you how good of a night it really was. These are meant as mere mementos more than actual good visual and/or auditory representation.

My notes start off with a simple OMG. Because Oh My unholy GOD, if I thought I already adored The Bridge City Sinners on record, itโ€™s a WHOLE other thing seeing them live. I am staring at that stage in ABSOLUTE LOVE and AWE of the glorious mayhem of strings and vocals. The music feels so much more layered while seeing it live, because you can pick apart all the scrumptious little details. I made a video that gives only a vague idea about how epic of a performance it was. (Trust me, it does the evening NO justice at all, but it may give you a slight idea as to what you’ve missed.)

There is just so so much fucking talent on that ONE tiny stage! They all sing (and very well I might add), they all play multiple instruments which they casually switch during the set, like itโ€™s nothing. From banjos to fiddles, from guitars to dobros; topped with a standing bass and a side of madness. 

Aside from the Sinners, they all have several other bands and solo projects going on. Thatโ€™s the thing about good music. Itโ€™s not just a series of notes and words reiterated on a stage. Good musicians and bands LIVE for their music. They breathe the music like it is their oxygen, and every night they play, they exchange that life force with their audience. Only to get recharged night after night and in the meantime honing their skills and getting more extraordinary with every gig.

This is what is happening here, itโ€™s a band of exceptionally talented and dedicated musicians who LOVE what they do and the people they do it with. Every one of them gets their chance to shine on stage, with the wonderful Libby as a master of ceremonies directing her friends to their own spotlight. My hazy notes tell me I was again very much impressed by Clydeโ€™s voice and taken aback when he started grunting during one song. The banjolos (not one BUT AT LEAST TWO) were mentioned as well. I was also very impressed by Lightinโ€™ Luke and his fiddlework and something else he was doing because I wrote down โ€˜The fuck is he playing? Woap wap?โ€™. Alas, I have no clue what I am referencing here, but all of these weird obscure scribblings just prove it was such a good show, I lost all sense of making sense. And thatโ€™s the way I like it.

My notes do however mention my admiration of Joey Steel, who acts as the tour manager for The Sinnersโ€™ European Vacation. Heโ€™s running around before, during and after the gig, setting everything up so that the band can just focus on doing what they do best. Meanwhile, he still makes the time to greet me with a big hug, in between all his hauling around and setting up. Joey Steel, hardest working man in showbiz and still so fucking nice!๐Ÿ’œ (Weโ€™ll even forgive him for turning on the venueโ€™s lights for that one brief moment where he paused and leaned against the wall!) 

Near the end of their set, there is one special moment where Libby dedicates the following song to Tomas, their friend and the lead singer of Profane Sass who died on the road. The song was written for him, upon learning of his untimely death. The ways she talked about him and in reading up on him, it seems he was one of those one of a kind, magical people who radiated goodness and life force all around. He lived for the music and what that music could bring to people. I never knew him while he was alive, but itโ€™s beautiful to see heโ€™s still on the road, through his friends and touching people’s hearts. 

The set up until then had already been absolutely amazing, but this was a beautiful moment that put the cherry on top. A moment of musical synchronicity for me, especially when she sang the words โ€œOut of the darkness and heading out to seaโ€. I reflected on my own journey out of the darkness surrounding death and my journey ahead to the sea. The lyrics would prove to be even more synchronicitous a few days later when I yelled them into the surf. Itโ€™s one of those moments I will never forget. A moment, a story, a song and a band etched onto my soul forever. 

The Bridge City Sinners probably donโ€™t even fully know just how phenomenal and rare it is what they do, what they bring to their audience. If they do, it certainly doesnโ€™t show in their attitudes because the Sinners I got to talk to are wonderfully down to earth. 

There are no accurate words to describe the atmosphere in that venue, which was bulging at the seams at this impossibly perfect event. The band said it themselves, this would probably be the last tour theyโ€™ll be able to play smaller and more intimate venues like Trefpunt. I am SO ecstatic I got to be there, to experience up close and personal the intoxicating chaos and fury with which the Sinners approach their live sets. 

After the show I still have a ways to go even though I wrote down that I am not sure just how my legs are still functional. I am completely running on fumes and adrenaline. I walk back to the car with Jo & Tiho through a calm and peaceful city and drive up to the coast where I still find a last mere ounce of fuel to unload all my shit. I then collapse onto the bed for a happy and well earned slumber, not yet fully aware of the catharsis I just experienced and the one that still lays ahead.

Follow The Bridge City Sinners

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Gipsy, Kiel and Coco – A Story of musical synchronicity in Three Parts | Part 3: Coco and musical synchronicity

Part 3: Coco and Musical Synchronicity.

This is another series about synchronicity in music and synchronicity in threes. At the end of summer I was starting to get too far away from the feeling that the synchronicitous threes, rainbows and music had evoked. I was starting to treat writing about my musical encounters like a job, when music is really a calling to me. Music is calling to me and has been this whole year. One way or another. And thatโ€™s how it should stay, so I am documenting this to help me remember.ย 

In three simple nights, I am right back to where it started in March. I feel the surge of my purpose, the burn of why this all came along my path when it did, and the love for the music and artists and all the Purple People in their entourage. With music as my spirit guide, to lead me on a new path in life. The Purple thread I follow along the road to the best version of my self.ย 

In Part one, we find ourselves in The Black Flamingo.
In Part two, we spend some time at De Floeren Aap.
In this third and final part I am on the sofa, watching the movie Coco.

I’m writing this all down so I can finally learn to remember to never forget. Because it is so easily forgotten. I am posting this from a place where I am on the brink of having forgotten again. Where I can barely believe the words I have written here myself. Where all I want to do is shut out the world entirely. I am desperately retraining my mind to latch onto the positives as eagerly as it embraces the negatives. Searching for an upward spiral of sorts, away from the abyss. So here goes.

Around the time of Gipsy & Kielโ€™s tour, there is a lot going on in my life all at the same time. Life usually is a bit messy at the best of times, but this period contains a combination of stressors which make it even more difficult. Part of that mess is the fact that it is September, and almost a year ago that I had lost my father to a devastating disease. Remembering the feelings from sitting by his sickbed, seeing him turn into a shadow of his former self is weighing me down. During the year I had found him looking on in the musical synchronicity, which had helped me tremendously in my grieving process. 

I was starting to lose the connection. In the turmoil I found myself in, I started to roll back into old habits and feelings of hopelessness. I was still bathing in the music, revelling in its beauty. But I lost track of what had been the most important about it, what it actually signified. The hope of another life, another me who was strengthened and lifted up by the music as a sort of harness against the perils of the world. I still felt the beauty, but no longer the surge of strength it brought me. I could feel myself slipping away again in all the wrong coping strategies. 

Iโ€™d nearly hit bottom again. I was losing myself in grief, sadness and anger and could feel my sense of self become smaller again. After another awful day where the feelings of helplessness and hopelessness prevailed, everything inside me was screaming to stay in and shut myself away from the world. But I didnโ€™t, I forced myself to go against that feeling and I went to The Black Flamingo instead. I let myself drift on the waves of music that Gipsy and Kiel brought with them. I got to feel that warm hug of those Purple people around me again. (And that one guy, but you know, sometimes it takes something appalling to let the good shine out even more. I was intently protected from his aura of awful by those around.)

It didnโ€™t really sink in until the show on Monday though. Iโ€™d felt my dad there again, in The Black Flamingo. In the music. I heard it again in de Floeren Aap. He would have absolutely loved Gipsy Rufina and Kiel Grove. While hanging out with Ann we were talking each others ears off about just about anything. And it hit me, these are the types of people I need in my life. Full of positive energy, dreams and crazy life plans. Full of an all consuming LOVE and ADORATION for things. Around people like this, I donโ€™t have to put bits of myself away. I donโ€™t have to wear a mask or pretend, I get to wear my heart on my sleeve, where it should be!ย Somewhere the conversation turned to the tattoo Ann had of Dante, the dog from Coco. I had been contemplating watching that movie again because I was thinking of my dad and all those who went before him.

When the day of the third Gipsy/Kiel show came and my body screamed at me to give it some rest, I decided to give in to self care and self comfort. With a blanket and cat at the ready, I put on Coco and floated away in a world of music and colour.ย 

It underlined everything I have lived and learned through music since March. A story of a grieving process through finding myself again, finding my way to my people again and with music as a giant Purple thread throughout all of it. Coco is all about honouring your dead and speaking their name. Itโ€™s about destiny. Of going against the grain, about not just following the road of what is expected of you. About a belief in yourself that you cannot let go.ย ย 

Music is part of my destiny, in one form or another. Music as the fuel for my words and art. Music as a life force driving me from one place to another, discovering the world and its people. Music as a form of therapy, mindfulness and anti-depressant. In making it myself eventually. (Though I have still yet to successfully form or keep a band.) Itโ€™ll always be there alongside of me, in one form or another. I need to keep seeing it, feeling the fuel of it.ย 

My road seems riddled now with little reminders to it. At the end of the month, the day of the wild Bridge City Sinners gig, I am on a group outing. Suddenly, I am surrounded by the colour and wonder of Coco in this Dia de Los Muertos decor.

I smile and walk through it. Putting in my earbuds and FEELING the music that is playing.ย I want and NEED to learn to keep my eyes and ears open for these reminders of the beauty. It’s so easy to miss it all in the overwhelm when your senses get glazed over by the mist of darkness.

So I am leaving this note here. As a light, a shining beacon of how it can be, if I remember to REALLY see.

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Seaside musings, a coastal diary series. (Part THREE โ€“ Scene SIX)

SIX | Strength through Music.

PART THREE- SCENE SIX
Monday, September 25th, 2023

FADE IN:
EXT. SEASIDE BUNKER IN THE DUNES, NIEUWPOORT BELGIUM – EVENING

My trip into the Flanders Fields left me feeling dejected. Even though it had been a nice day out, both in a trip and weather sense, I felt the weight of death on my shoulders. The deaths of all those soldiers, fighting a war others waged for them. Seeing those graves in Steenkerke with all those young boysโ€™ names and the memorial in Ramskapelle got me in a gloomy mood. And of course, closer to home and heart, all the memories of my dad dredged up by those two places left me feeling disconsolate.ย 

While catching my breath on the terrace, I see this beautiful rainbow in the sky. Aside from the music, the number three and feathers, thereโ€™d been a lot of synchronicitous rainbows this year too.

I take it as a sign for me to venture out again, clearing my head of the contemplative cobwebs. Another sunset stroll on the beach it is. This time I walk away from Nieuwpoort beach, in the direction of the Ter Yde Dunes nature reserve in Oostduinkerke. 

It starts off as another magical walk, reminiscing on the beautiful musical rainbows. I have yet to regale you with the tale of meeting the beautiful ultra-purple person that is Joey Henry, whom I met somewhere at the start of August. I havenโ€™t had the time to find the right words to describe the two nights I spent with him and his music. They will roll out in due time.

Letโ€™s just say that aside from being an immensely talented musician, heโ€™s also a phenomenal photographer. I snagged one of his prints, Kansas rainbow included, at the first of his shows I saw at Den Oude Ketel. (Yes, the very same spot where I saw that other impossible rainbow months earlier, after that magical James Hunnicutt set.)

Kansas Rainbow print by Joey Henry

All this to say, I had rainbows, music and photography on my mind. So I channel my inner puddle & cloud photographer as I set off along the empty shoreline, singing loudly.

I see the bunker and walk back up the beach and climb to the crest of the dunes. I sit and rest, taking in the amazing sight of the sunset from my vantage point. 

I decide to walk back before I lose the light completely. I put in my earbuds and start my playlist at random when of course, none other than โ€˜In the Mirrorโ€™ by The Interrupters starts playing. The song that started off this series, and the one I was singing just moments earlier.

I wander further along the waves, howling along to Raised by Wolves. This is so cathartic I decide to delve deeper into the melancholy.

James Hunnicutt live at The Black Flamingo (With Fritz and the Reverend from Whiskey Dick)

I start off with โ€˜Donโ€™t let teardrops fill your eyesโ€™ by James Hunnicutt and of course, teardrops start filling my eyes, like this song invariably seems to do.ย I send him a text scolding him for this awfully amazing song and thanking him profoundly for what it keeps doing to me. ๐Ÿ’œ๐Ÿ’œ๐Ÿ’œ

It leads me to the playlist we played at my dadโ€™s funeral starting with โ€˜De Grote Voyageโ€™ by Willem Vermandere, whose house I just sat in front of earlier that day.

Iโ€™m sobbing and laughing, feeling everything all at once. A beautiful mess of BIG emotions. I scream the lyrics into the void of the sea. I walk on with โ€˜Weโ€™ll meet againโ€™ by Johnny Cash in my ears. It feels like my father is looking on and saying to me, though Johnnyโ€™s baritone timbre:

“Keep smiling through
Just like you always do
‘Til the blue skies chase those dark clouds far away”

We’ll Meet Again – Johnny Cash

So I walk on. With a smile on my face. Deciding to go for some fries at a snackbar with a cute dog in their logo.The nice purple people saw I was taking a pic and invited the critter himself over.

The dog is named Gaspard, and he reminded me (in more ways than one) of Gaspode from Discworld, only one of my favourite characters in the series. I mean. Talk about everything being connected. (In MY mind at least. Itโ€™s a special place inside my skull, I like it here, even though it is always just a little on fire.)

He starts cuddling up to me and I am sobbing while smiling again. One of the last conversations I remember having with my dad, is about cuddling up to a dog and the horse Iyota from hippo-therapy and telling him how happy it had made me. And him reponding thoughtfully ‘They know, you know, they sense it’ even though I never truly told him how dark the thoughts beforehand had been. I love you, Gaspard people and especially you my little doggo friend! (Great fries too!)

After another doggie selfie, this time with the Nieuwpoort Saint-Bernard, who fills me with SO MANY youthful family memories again, it is time to go back home.

I fall asleep like a log and wake up in the middle of the night. I go onto the balcony for another breath of fresh air and drink in the silence. And just as I think to myself โ€˜All is quiet on the Western Frontโ€™, I see a fisher boat with a huge flock of LOUD seagulls in tow.

I see you dad, I hear you. Good night.ย 

PS: The title of this blog refers to yet another song. About death. Suprise. It didn’t fit in with the rest of the sentiment of this post so I added it here, as an aside. I’d say ‘enjoy’, but it is definitely not that type of song. It is pretty damn haunting.

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Seaside musings, a coastal diary series. (Part THREE โ€“ Scene FIVE)

FIVE | In Flanders Fields.

PART THREE – SCENE FIVE
Monday, September 25th, 2023

FADE IN:
EXT. GRAVEYARD GRASS, STEENKERKE BELGIUM – AFTERNOON

Every time we came on a family trip to the coast, there was one specific trip inland. A visit to the city of Veurne and/or walking through the sleepy fields of Oeren nearby. A walk to the MiniPri where we got to pick out ONE TOY. It was a HUGE toy store in my memory, but turns out to be a store with one toy aisle. (Time has stood still there, they still sell Britney Spears & Eminem posters from the early nillies. Itโ€™s a little weird, but comforting nonetheless.)

So my search for treasured memories drives me inland today, to the quiet town of Steenkerke in that same region.

When I was old enough to go to the coast myself, my dad gave me the same advice every time: โ€˜Jul, you have to go to Steenkerkeโ€™. And then when I was there, a message: โ€˜Jul, have you been to Steenkerke?โ€™. It had everything to do with his love for music and art, which combined itself in the Flemish artist Willem Vermandere. A philosopher, poet, writer, etcher, painter, sculptor and a singer-songwriter with an impressive oeuvre.

Two years ago, I finally listened and fell deeply in love with the artist whoโ€™d Iโ€™d only heard of in passing before. I read (and immediately bought) his book Als โ€˜t maar Geestig is and set off to discover his hometown Steenkerke.

On the way to and from there, I was entranced by his music that fit so well with the scenery of the Flanders Fields. Some of it light-hearted, but some deeply rooted in the horrible happenings in those fields, like the album Altijd iemands vader, altijd iemands kind (Always someone’s father, always someone’s child). It’s a true masterpiece of musical storytelling.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KyKEbumYmfc

In Steenkerke, like in so many places around West-Flanders, thereโ€™s a military graveyard from the first World War, with graves of too many young men who lost their lives in a cruel and useless war. (Like there is any other kind.) This visit in 2021, combined with my journey to Ypres, where I was moved to tears by the daily tribute of The Last post at the Menin gate, inspired me to make my own piece of protest-art.

Within this collage I sprinkled in some music which reminds me of the wars of my lifetime. The ones fought in Iraq and Afghanistan, after 9/11 happened, which in turn made me VERY conscious of world politics. The skull is made up of the lyrics to the heartwrenching song Hero of War by Rise Against and I added in the title of Let them Eat War by Bad Religion. 

It was reading Willem Vermandereโ€™s book that drove me to enrol in the Art Academy, where I found joy in creating again after a very long hiatus. This was the first piece I made after some dark years where I lost my passion for creation. In a way, Vermandere was the instigator for the Clumsy Crane Studio Instagram that now also includes my great love of writing. The music has ALWAYS been a common thread on the page, all my own favourite pieces of art were inspired by or named for songs.

Back to Steenkerke. My plan for today was to spend an afternoon on the terrace of his favourite pub, one he wrote this song about. (It was the place where I bought the book and enjoyed a nice local beer on the last my last visit, as pictured above.) Alas, this being after the high season, the cafรฉ was closed for a yearly holiday. I saw my plans for writing with the church in back of me, his house in front of me and his spirit near me fade away. But then I find this spot in the grass and decide to start writing there, overlooking the polder. 

The sound of nature takes over and I realise this is the better option. Writing with a bunch of bike tourists surrounding me would have been another experience indeed. All I hear now is the wind gently caressing the leaves of the trees and about ten different species of bird tweeting merrily away. Somewhere in the distance I hear some church bells jingling a joyful tune. Around me thereโ€™s the fluttering of butterflies, ladybugs and other summery critters enjoying the last rays of sun. 

In this sleepy silent town I seem to be completely on my own. Alone, but not lonely. I am surrounded by memories and profoundly content with my own company. Feeling that artful soul across the street brings some extra oxygen. As if a cosmic connection is supporting me while writing. I lie back and stare at the clouds and drink it all in. 

There’s the tiny church behind me, filled with some of his beautiful works of art. He wrote the following song about it. My favourite lyric is this:

O ik wil het al nog geiren geloven,
dat mirakel van die zes kruiken wijn
en van Lazarus die al drie dagen dood was,
were levend, meer moet dat nie zijn.

Dat is ‘t werk van zangers en dichters,
als ‘t maar rijmt, is ‘t een fluitje van ne cent,
dat Jezus zijn moeder nog maagd was,
is dat geen geestig vertellement!

Roughly translated that goes:

Oh, I want to gladly believe it all
The miracle of those six jugs of wine
And of Lazarus who’d been dead for three days
Alive again, that’s all it takes.

That’s the work of singers and poets,
If it just rhymes, it’s a piece of cake,
That Jesus’ mother was still a virgin,
Isn’t that a droll tale

After I’m done writing, I step into the church to wander past Vermandereโ€™s paintings, etches and sculptures again. I refrain from putting his music on because the Gregorian church music, which I kind of really despise and always have, reminds me of my father again. I take my sweet time looking at every piece in detail and marvel at the imagery and colours. 

The beauty and intricacy of the works doesn’t really translate into pictures.  I get especially transfixed by this one, drinking in every brushstroke and bit of shading in these striking colours with hungry (and quite frankly a little jealous) eyes.

In trying to research what this piece is called (no luck yet), I just found out this piece I saw on my first night in Nieuwpoort. It was made in remembrance of the Great War and is called Verzoening or Atonement. It is placed on the geographical starting point of the Western Front right near the pier.

I walk back out of the church, put on my hiking boots and wander off in the distance. After a while, my thirst, which I was supposed to quench at that little terrace, takes over. Nothing is open within walking distance, so I decide to drive over to Ramskapelle and I unknowingly end up at the perfect writing spot. Another place where time stood still, with a slightly camp but lovely decorated terrace and some beautiful inspiring wall art. 

A chill and very 80s soundtrack in the background, a very LOUD but soothing conversation between two local ladies in that lovely West-Flanders dialect and some nice regional beers on the menu. The air feels warm, and smells of a rain shower that never happens. What else could a person want? Fate drove me here. I start writing. Crocodile Rock jumps on in the background. I smile and think of Joey Clyde. 

Before going home I honour my farmer family roots by making friends with a sheep and admiring some farming equipment. Dad would have been proud of me today.

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Seaside musings, a coastal diary series. (Part TWO – Scene FOUR)

FOUR | Soundtrack With a View.

PART TWO – SCENE FOUR
Sunday, September 24th, 2023

FADE IN:
EXT. NORTH SEA SHORELINE & BEACH BAR , NIEUWPOORT BELGIUM
– AFTERNOON TILL EARLY EVENING

With the work on my website done, itโ€™s time to go out and play in the sun! Time to chase my fever dreams and finally dig my toes into the sand. My feet firmly stuck in the sea, feeling the waves splash against my legs and my hair getting tussled by the wind. And in this moment I am happy. Cue another songโ€™s lyrics getting stuck on loop in my brain. I can’t say I even mind.

I dig my toes into the sand
The ocean looks like a thousand diamonds strewn across a blue blanket
I lean against the wind, pretend that I am weightless
And in this moment I am happy, happy

Incubus – Wish You Were Here

After some more splishing and splashing through the surf, I end up near a shrimp fisher. My bird watchers book had taught me earlier that the ebb is a fine time for admiring the flocks of birds cruising the shore for some snacks. Boy, was I in for a treat myself! A gigantic flock of seagulls (quite possibly European Herring Gulls to be more specific.) is having a feast of seaside spoils. Time for a photoshoot!

  • Seagull feeding on Nieuwpoort Beach
  • Seagull feeding on Nieuwpoort Beach
  • Seagulls feeding on Nieuwpoort Beach
  • Seagulls feeding on Nieuwpoort Beach
  • Seagulls feeding on Nieuwpoort Beach
  • Seagulls feeding on Nieuwpoort Beach
  • Seagulls feeding on Nieuwpoort Beach
  • Seagulls feeding on Nieuwpoort Beach
  • Julie and her birb friends

Eventually my sore legs and feet drag me back to the same beach bar from yesterday where I score another swing seat. Commence three hours of languidly scrolling, writing, drawing and watching cute doggies frolic in the sand.

Instagram treats me to some Jen Razavi and I am immediately back in Duffel at the start of August. (Another of my stories on backlog, where I will tell you about the amazing Women of Brakrock.) I am falling back into memories of music, so I put on some tunes while writing this. Am not disappointed. It starts off with The Devil Makes three, follows up with some Bridge City Sinners and then falls into this one:

Well, I am not drunk as hell, but I am definitely enjoying my local beer, drinking in this amazing view and those BEAUTIFUL CLOUDS.

The music seeps in again as I am enjoying the nice weather. A slightly more prominent sea wind than yesterday rocks me gently in my seat. And in this moment I am happy. Happily enjoying the break from the chaos, both good and bad, from the last years. Joyously revelling in the good company of the music in my ears and wind in my hair. 

With my shoes strung across my shoulders, I walk home barefoot. I donโ€™t think Iโ€™ve ever felt the concept of mindfulness as deeply as I did today. The sand and water around my ankles, the sun on my face and the wind blowing all worries away.

Mindfully enjoying the clouds

Admiring the cloudy views and feeling the stones of a slightly altered version of my childhood under my feet. I cannot help but smile.

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Seaside musings, a coastal diary series. (Part TWO – Scene THREE)

Joey Clyde the crocodile, working on DownSideUp

THREE | Musical Synchronicity in Full Swing

PART TWO – SCENE THREE
Sunday, September 24th, 2023

FADE IN:
INT. FAMILY APARTMENT, NIEUWPOORT BELGIUM – MORNING

See me sitting at the computer, trusted cup of coffee at hand, clicking and typing industriously. I am finally getting around to updating my website, reworking the layout of the basic pages. I had been meaning to do this overhaul for a while now, but I kept postponing it because life was happening. I was also having too much fun documenting all of those happenings in the words you read on here. Which is perfectly fine. Live while Iโ€™m alive and sleep when I am dead and all that, as Bon Jovi used to sing. 

Today however, I do have a use for this restful Sunday. While the coastal town is busy bustling with activity, I am avoiding all that hustle by web designing with a view. It is nice to take a break for once. Iโ€™d been running on fumes for a while now, as I spoke about at length in the first part of this seaside series. But it wasnโ€™t all stress and bad energy that left me in need of a break. After resurfacing from the dark abyss, I found the music again with Pete Bernhard at The Black Flamingo in March and I havenโ€™t stopped seeing amazing shows (both large and small) since then. 

On my fathers birthday in April and the second show of Peteโ€™s I saw, I decided to get DownSideUp going again. I will be eternally grateful to Jo because as I said before , he played an integral part in me firing this website up again. Me being my neurodivergent self, I needed this space back online as soon as I could. This meant not thinking too much about where I wanted to go with this, and just throwing something together to get to posting. I didnโ€™t want to lose myself in my overly perfectionist former marketing & communications self, and lose the momentum of writing. I am so glad I told UX, SEO and all that jazz to fuck right off. 

But today, I carved out a bit of time to rework and translate. The design is still far from perfect, but from now on I live by the creed that done is always better than perfect. (And to be fair, perfection probably doesnโ€™t even really exist, another man-made concept to steer clear of.) In any case, at least now the setup makes more sense and brings focus to what is the most important: THE WORDS! And seeing as how my bilingual narrator writes in both Dutch and English, I decided to translate the basic pages to the latter language. Most Flemish and Dutch people understand English anyway and Iโ€™m making international friends again who wouldnโ€™t be able to understand the Dutch bits. So there, fixed(-ish). 

Hunger calls me back to reality and I venture out for some much needed carbs to accompany my lovely meaty treat I bought yesterday. Something pulls at my gut again and I step into a store on the way back. There I find this cutie calling my name. My neurodivergent ass LOVES stuffed animals, so I could not resist when I saw this soft crocco-fella. 

Julie happily smiling while holding her new friend

On the way home I named him Joey Clyde, for Joey Steel and Clyde McGee, as a reminder of a spectacular Friday and this subsequent ‘finding myself’ holiday at the coast. You will remember Clyde from that fateful Pete Bernhard gig in April at Tequila Tattoos, that helped set things in motion for the reemergence of DownSideUp. Heโ€™d promised me then to get me on the guestlist for his Bridge City Sinners show, which he graciously did. (Remember that BEST GIG OF THE YEAR bit in part one of this series? Yes, it was them. I will tell you ALL about it in due time.) Synchronicitous as always, this song starts playing in my headphones while I am writing this. 

But have I told you about my friend Joey? I met him last year at Punk in Drublic and we have kept in contact ever since. He’s an amazing musician and singer in FIVE bands, an anarchist and LGBTQIA+ ally, a great thinker and self proclaimed shit talker, with his own most interesting podcast ‘Dispatches from the Underground‘. He’s also a tour manager and any band fortunate enough to count them into their entourage, should thank their lucky stars. (He will be prominently featured in the imminent Bridge City Sinners post.)

Thanks to Joey, I got to invite Jo, Tiho and Ann & David (Whom Iโ€™d met at the Whiskey Dick/James Hunnicutt double bill at The Black Flamingo. More on them later, because the music brought us back together for Gipsy Rufina and Kiel Grove a few weeks ago. That is YET ANOTHER series of posts I am working on!) to experience the chaos that was that amazing Bridge City Sinners gig with me. He made that night even more special for me, because I could share the music and pay it all forward by getting those lovely people on the guest list.

When I got to the apartment, I noticed Joey Clyde had a stitch loose on his neck which I fixed with needle and thread, giving him a badass scar. Joey recently underwent a major surgery, resulting in a similarly badass scar on his neck. Musical synchronicity in full force right there. (Have you noticed this is scene three? I HAVE!) 

Me and Joey at Trefpunt Gent after the Bridge City Sinners show

I will forever treasure my new crocodile friend Joey Clyde as a visual reminder of a mindblowing night and seaside holiday.

Tiho, me and Clyde at Trefpunt Gent after the Bridge City Sinners show

Follow Clyde McGee:

And check out his bands:

  • Bridge City Sinners
  • Clyde and the Milltailers

Follow Joey Steel:

And check out his bands:

  • All Torn Up!
  • Skull Caster
  • Cop/Out
  • JS & the Attitude Adjusters
  • Bowhead
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Seaside musings, a coastal diary series. (Part ONE – Scene TWO)

Julie at sundown in Nieuwpoort

TWO | Before Sunset, Before Sunrise

PART ONE – SCENE TWO
Saturday, September 23rd, 2023

FADE IN:
EXT. NORTH SEA SHORELINE, NIEUWPOORT BELGIUM – EVENING/NIGHT

Here I am, walking along the shoreline while the sun is setting behind me.

I came to look at the sunset from the vantage point of the dunes, but something pulled me to the waterโ€™s edge. Though there are still plenty of people out and about, it feels like at this moment it is just me, the wind and the waves. 

waves crashing into the shoreline

No music this time, except the sound mother nature provides. The rushing of the waves into the shoreline and the wind whooshing along in harmony.

This most soothing silent sound fills my world. A panoptic blanket of white noise takes me in its arms and shelters me from the rest of the world around me. 

I spot a few washed up jellyfish and get completely entranced and start taking pictures. The light hits them just right. What an amazing sight to see.

A little sad and melancholy as well, since chances are these graceful yet delicate sea creatures are dead or dying.


Thatโ€™s nature for you. The undercurrent brings the jellyfish to the surface, where they wash up on shore and dehydrate. The sea is as cruel as it is soothing. 

In creeps the music again, (As if I could ever avoid it.) by way of this Flogging Molly Sea Shanty ‘Cruel Mistress’ worming it’s way into my brain.

But actually, the sea is neither cruel nor kind. Thatโ€™s what man made of it, anthropomorphising a body of water out of fear and misunderstanding. The sea lives and is in turn teaming with life, both above and below the surface. Yet it can never be cruel, nor can it be kind, because it simply gives no fucks. The sea just exists in a series of ebb and flow movements, drawn in and out by the gravitational pull of the moon. Ebb and flow. Ebb and flow. Ebb and flow. Day in and day out. To be more like the seaโ€ฆ 

Nieuwpoort Pier, seaside view, night

Thereโ€™s a therapy analogy that helps you look at recovery from depression and burnout (and pretty much life in general) as a series of waves. You cannot be happy all the time and you will not be sad all the time. My life over the years has felt like a road of sky-scraping peaks and rock bottom valleys. Losing so much of myself in the darkness of those deep chasms. My sense of self. My sense of wonder. The things I am good at, and the things I love doing. Writing is one of those, but photography used to be that as well. 

Well, this moment in time is where I draw the line in the sand and say: no more of that. Yes there will be ups and downs, there always are in life. But from now on I will be more like the sea, a slow and steady ebb and flow. Because thereโ€™s always a new day tomorrow, where the moon can pull on me again to bring me onto shore.ย 

As I walk up the pier, smiling when I hear two kids singing โ€˜Laat ons een bloemโ€™ by Louis Neefs.ย Another song that is filled with fond memories of family, the child within me and so many more I canโ€™t even begin to list. I keep walking, entranced by the view, the sounds, and the activity of the night-fisherpeople.

It is again so fitting, so synchronicitous to hear this song at this point in time. See me walking into the future, with the music as my compass and guiding light. ๐Ÿ’œ

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Seaside musings, a coastal diary series. (Part ONE – Scene ONE)

Julie geniet al schrijvend van de schommelende strandstoel en de muziek

ONE | Wherein I am no longer my own worst enemy.

PART ONE – SCENE ONE
Saturday, September 23rd, 2023

FADE IN:
EXT. BEACH BAR, NIEUWPOORT BELGIUM – DAY

I am sitting at a beach bar in Nieuwpoort, the day after another one of my favourite nights and shows of the year. I have several, they keep on accumulating. Youโ€™d think that at some point I wouldnโ€™t be yelling โ€˜THIS WAS THE BEST GIG OF THE YEARโ€™, but here we are. 

I was on the way to the butcher for a delicious meaty treat for myself (I know, I am an awful animal lover!) and wanted to walk with the North Sea in full view. I followed my gut away from the busy looking bit of the dike of Nieuwpoort beach. Seeing the squirming of all the sunny Saturday tourists made me stop in my tracks, think to myself โ€˜NOPE, not todayโ€™ and swiftly turn the other way. The reward for trusting my gut feeling was nearly instant. After noping out of the first bar (WAY too loud and hip for my taste) I settled on the second beach bar in sight. Swing chairs with a dune and ocean view? Yes, please! I settled in, put my headphones on and fired up the Spotify playlist I started with my good friend Jo.ย 

How synchronicitous that this song should come on while writing this. The lyrics are etched into my soul.

Took me two years to write this song, I wanted it perfect, no wrinkles in it.
Took me a long time to come clean, To be honest, the truthโ€™s so ugly.

No matter how far I run, I always end up back here.
No matter how far I go, I always end up back here.
In the mirror, in the mirror, in the mirror, only in the mirror.

I always felt so out of placะต, In a crowded room, I speak too soon
Yeah I put a big smilะต on my face, I canโ€™t let them know itโ€™s all for show, No

Iโ€™m tired of running, Iโ€™m tired of running, Iโ€™m tired of running, Iโ€™m tired of running, Iโ€™m tired of running, Iโ€™m tired of running, Iโ€™m tired of RUNNING

The Interrupters – In the Mirror

I saw The Interrupters earlier this year (in the chaotic gig-filled month of June I am still scrambling to write fully about.) and broke my voice while singing along to this song. It was yet another cathartic experience in this insanely amazing year of music, that keeps piling those moments on top of each other. But I digress.

As I sit lie here, contentedly swinging in my beach chair while writing, a gentle sea breeze blows through my hair. I realise I am no longer my own worst enemy. In fact, I am thoroughly enjoying my own company. No outside stressors or responsibilities. Just me myself and I, tuning the world out by way of The Best Playlist in the World. The salty sea air in my nose, my notebook at hand and barely any humans in sight. All I see is sandy dunes, a lot of sunshine with a few clouds, the beautiful North Sea and some kites floating merrily in the wind.

The dunes and clouds of Nieuwpoort Bad

It all emphasises how sorely I needed this getaway after nearly three years of constant stress, darkness & self-doubt. Iโ€™ve resurfaced after one of the worst periods in my life in general. First there was the burnout and subsequent depression that I could not seem to crawl out of. Followed by a stupid incident in which I broke my foot and the slow healing process over the gruellingly boring summer of 2021. Then a string of injuries and illness in the family, resulting in the caring for (and about) both my mother and father. (Which left the summer of 2022 without music as well, aside from Punk in Drublic.)

Then came the death of my father around this time last year, and another tumble down that jet black abyss followed. The music and Purple People saved me from that one. As I was slowly crawling out of that hole, I ended a 17 year long relationship and started a nine month long, intense group therapy process which I am now halfway through. I might not have been working, but my mind never seemed to get a moment’s rest either way. 

How the fuck did I ever expect to get myself out of a burnout that had been in the works for YEARS, while still burning the candle at both ends? It was delusional to think I could have done it alone. Nevertheless, I am sure that this sequence of events was not without meaning in and of itself. I am sure to my core I needed to pass through all of that to end up here. Both figuratively and literally speaking. I needed to end up here, at this exact moment in time, in this particular place in space. I will look back on this and see what a huge step it will have been in my healing process. I am beyond sure of that. 

Over the last couple of years I had been having these weird anxiety filled stress dreams, about being near the sea and not finding my way to the beach. I have been YEARNING to put my feet in the ocean and feel the wind in my hair since before the lockdown of 2020. I have finally arrived and made it to my own private beachfront holiday.

I am bathing myself in profoundly precious memories in the coastal town where my grandparents bought an apartment the year I was born. I spent every summer of my childhood here with my family. I am treasuring those echoes of the past, of my inner child deep within. Itโ€™s in the smells of the sand & sea, of the gasoline in the parking garage below the apartment. Itโ€™s in the view of the beautifully repainted waterfront property with the words Inchโ€™ Allah embedded in the stone. It always links back to the music, in this case the song by Adamo, an artist I dearly love courtesy of my mother and grandmother.

Being here on this second day of Autumn, enjoying probably one of the last Indian summer days of the year, feels positively magical. I spent a chaotic but intensely rewarding day yesterday getting over a LOT of fears, both real and imaginary. (Fear of heights and roller coasters, group dynamics, traffic and bad weather combined with very tight schedules and timelines. A right mess for a neurodivergent person such as myself.) It morphed into one of the best days and nights of 2023. (And that is saying something!) I was surrounded by good friends and like minded souls in the midst of the all encompassing piece of life that is The Music.

I feel like I am finally discovering myself as an actual person. And most importantly, I like that face staring back at me in the mirror, for the first time in maybe EVER.

'The most beautiful thing you can become is yourself' - picture of Julie taken (in the mirror) at Trefpunt Ghent
‘The most beautiful thing you can become is yourself’ – taken (in the mirror) at Trefpunt Ghent

That all of this should happen NOW and HERE is nothing less than prophetic. It is fate. It is destiny. It is another bit of proof I am walking the right road. MY road. The road I was meant for from the start. Iโ€™ve been walking it all along, but I just now passed the bit in between where there were no lights, signage or roadmarks. It feels good to be on the other side. To be able to breathe and let go of the anxieties that have been stuck to me for all these years. I see a light at the end of the tunnel and I am walking towards it. Smiling to myself. Following where the music takes me next.

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(Re)make myself.

White Fluffy Clouds

A promise to no longer be my own worst enemy. A story about neurodivergence and acceptance in three songs.

I got my ADHD diagnosis last year at the ripe โ€˜oldโ€™ age of 36. In learning more about it, a LOT finally started to make sense. Why the life I was building for myself never really seemed to fit me. Why I never seemed to reach my own potential. However, there was still a puzzle piece missing. I got tested for both ADHD & Autism Spectrum Disorder at the same time. I had become so adept at masking myself, I did not get diagnosed as being on the spectrum. In subsequently talking to people, and reading up about autism and neurodivergence, I realised that diagnosis was wrong. I am both autistic and have ADHD. All those little quirks and difficulties I experienced all through life suddenly became one of two. The constant battle in my head between order and chaos was suddenly very clear. 

My life was made of masks, one for every occasion. First I hid my true self away, out of fear of not being accepted. Of being seen as weak. Of being perceived as weird. Of being thought of as a failure. Of being known as difficult. I became the person I thought I should be, not the person I actually was. It was a recipe for disaster. I was a ticking time bomb waiting to erupt. Last year I finally learned why everything always seemed SO much harder for me. Life in general, school, work and interpersonal relationships. 

But when I learned about, and started to accept and work around my (self)diagnosis as AuDHD, that became a mask in and of itself. I started to apologise for myself and my way of thinking about things and my way of doing things because of what those disorders meant to me. I have ADHD so I must be LOUD and OBNOXIOUS, SORRY. At the same time I am autistic, but because I am such a LOUD AND OBNOXIOUS ADHD’er, I didnโ€™t feel like I had the right to claim the space, peace and tranquillity I needed. It was a constant struggle with myself and not in the least, with the people around me. 

This year, right around the time I was rediscovering myself in the music and the words, I started group therapy in a clinic near me. I am so unbelievably grateful for having found that path. In the last three and a half months I have learned SO much about myself and moreover, myself in the world around me. It has been challenging and confronting at every turn. But I am slowly learning to understand myself and treat myself with the same compassion and empathy with which I approach other people. Itโ€™s a process with big ups and downs, but it is so unbelievably rewarding.

It really should not have come as such a surprise to me that I am my own worst enemy. I make life so much harder on myself by trying to do everything right. For myself, but especially for those around me. I adapted a mask very early on, hid myself away and pretended to be strong for years. Because I thought that was helping those around me, not having to worry about me and the dark abyss I was tumbling into. In reality, by pretending to be made of stone, I continued the fallacy that we should all be made of granite. That there is no room for us to crumble, even just a little. 

I am now slowly learning that vulnerability is a strength and not a weakness. How itโ€™s okay to not be okay. And how in showing and talking about my own struggles, others learn to find the words to describe their fragility and pain as well. There is beauty in recognition and unity in commiseration. We all struggle with things, why not struggle together? A sorrow shared is a sorrow halved. Because in sharing and commiserating, we can all grow together.

This blog started as a simple foreword to a piece about music. I was going to write about finding synchronicity in music again thanks to two shows by Gipsy Rufina & Kiel Grove. (Don’t worry, I WILL get to them!) How reconnecting with Ann, whom I met at the James Hunnicutt & Whiskey Dick gigs, led me to watch Coco again and what that meant to me in this dark September month. But the foreword developed a mind of its own and turned into this. It was meant as a sort of apology to all the bands and artists I promised my words to over the last couple of months. But in letting loose and just following the words, I realise I have nothing to apologise for.

Thereโ€™s something to be said for continuity and following the precise sequence of events. Itโ€™s nice and neat and comprehensible. (Some might even call it Nice & Accurate!) It is expected. Iโ€™m usually a stickler for doing things by the rules. It brings order to my disorderly brain. But I keep losing myself in trying to do everything perfectly. In thinking more of what my actions (or inactions) might signify to others, than in realising how hard those thoughts are weighing ME down.

I am trying to break away from that to preserve my own sanity and build myself back up in the best way possible. So I donโ€™t get burnt out from the thing that was curing my burnout. So for now I am done following the rules and promises I made in my head, because they were preventing me from telling the stories. 

From now on the stories will be posted as they present and write themselves in my head. The stories recorded during this magical, musical summer (and beyond) WILL get told with all the love I felt while experiencing it. But in their own time, in my time.

Hereโ€™s to chaos and anarchy. Hereโ€™s to doing things my way. 

RESIST. UNLEARN. DEFY.

An aside about the songs: The three songs in this blog are by a band that has a very special significance to me. Remember that message board I wrote about in my last blog on Terry Pratchett? Well, it was called Incuboard and was dedicated to Incubus. Sort of, anyway. I met some very special people there and I still remember that period very fondly. I lost track of the band a little around when they brought out Light Grenades. But I will never lose track of their previous albums and songs. They helped make me who I am to this day. They ring as true now, as they did back then.

I subconsciously chose three songs off the same album Make yourself. This was not planned, even though the title of this blog was inspired by the title song from that album. Synchronicity I guess. In threes, as always. The cover picture is inspired by a lovely art book the singer made, called White Fluffy Clouds. His art very much inspired my own. The piece below was my vague interpretation of the cover art of his book.

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Gogol Bordello, a story about music and people | Part 1 (-ish): The way to de Roma.

Gogol Bordello @ De Roma | Photo : Mathias Verschueren โ€“ June 3rd 2023

Part 1: Before the show.

So, I have been hinting at this so-called review in a few posts now. I labelled it a concert review, but it has turned into so much more than that. It’s an ode to music, punk spirit, purple people and community. My notes started off in Dutch, but then quickly veered into English because of all of the people who touched the experience. (Iโ€™m sorry if this is confusing, but this is just how my mind works.) 

Plus there’s another part to Gogol Bordello that isn’t even about the music or the people but is highly relevant in the world right now. By this I mean their activism and support for Ukraine. (I will definitely touch on that , but will probably have to expand on that subject in yet another post because there is just SO much to tell). So in saying all this, English makes my little voice louder, and that can amplify their message too. So there. Another three parter. Plus a Fourth. Which will really be the Fifth. (Hey, did I just declare a triology in five parts. Speaking of kindred spirits, I mean!)

Anyway. Enjoy Part One (-ish). (Read Part zero.)

Yes, this song again. I know they have others. Bear with me.

Weโ€™ll start at the beginning and that is long before the concert even started.
Actually, The Devil Makes Three were probably not even back on their tour bus yet, after an exhilarating performance at De Casino. Was walking to the car, drunk on music and experiences, as usual after a show. I was so happy about my night with the Three and SO looking forward to the show I will eventually start to describe. (I promise.) Then out of the corner of my eye, I saw this beautiful human walking ahead of us.

The Purple People energy is high in this picture!
The Purple People energy is high in this picture!

I caught up with him and possibly yelled at him: ‘DO YOU KNOW GOGOL BORDELLO!’ (Yes, it was a question, but not framed as one.)

He didn’t seem frightened or taken aback by this sudden attack on his way to the station.

No, he in fact did not know what a Gogol Bordello was. He in fact had known what a Devil Makes Three was for THREE YEARS before seeing them that night.

It was his mom who recommended he see this show. HIS FIRST EVER MUSIC SHOW Yโ€™ALL. Because of all the bullshit that caused the lockdowns and the annus horribilis 2020 that set everything in motion. The year I had to put reviewing on hold, even though I had only started a few months earlier. The day I thought of my first Polexia Miller post. Two days before the birth of the actual idea behind it. That day was the day he saw the show of the band he had loved deeply for years. I can SO relate to that.

In my adrenaline filled excitement I either forgot to ask for his real name, or forgot to remember it. (BUT my brain DID have the forethought to ask for his Insta so I just sent him a frantic message. Second time I had to do this in a week. No wait, third! Anyway, it’s Noah, HI NOAH! ) Itโ€™s all good, who needs real names when weโ€™re already 100% on the same-energy level and already planning drinks?

I usually just call those people babe or love.
Or simply such a good friend, a beautiful, talented, brilliant, powerful musk-ox.
You know, the usual.

Now. We’ve finally arrived. The wait is finally over. It is Saturday. It is time to mix among the Purple People. I am BURSTING to the core. So much so that I have to throw myself out of the car about a 10 minute walk from de Roma in Antwerp, because we HAD BEEN LOOKING FOR PARKING FOR 45 MINUTES. We had already missed the opener, I was starting to get really anxious, so I gave myself a breather. Shit. My partner in crime, still driving the car hopelessly around, had the tickets. SO CLOSE. Okay, donโ€™t panic. He sent them. NO, itโ€™s SONS! (Though I wouldnโ€™t mind going back, I am just here for a different sort of mayhem today.)

After another frantic, and probably not so nice (sorry, I was really overwhelmed) call, I get the right tickets. I walk in awkwardly and finally find a place to sit (also awkwardly). But who do I spot with my kaleidoscopic eye, but yet another kindred spirit!

Julie en Regula Ysewijn- De Roma
Julie + her spirit person and outfit inspirator: Regula ‘Queen of Baking’ Ysewijn.

Of COURSE she is a Purple Person. A true free spirit, who brings colour and beauty into this world. I am by no means a Master Baker, but I am in absolute love with both the UK & Flemish version of The Bake Off. (It used to have Sandi Toksvig before she grew tired of merengues. Now she’s on one of my other favourites QI. But I digress)

So seeing the Queen of Baking (and fashion) there, after my mini freak out, (you probably can’t tell, but I had been crying just seconds before.) felt like the best possible omen. (Spoiler – because this is getting long- IT WAS!)

Gogol Bordello @ De Roma | Photo : Mathias Verschueren โ€“ June 3rd 2023
Gogol Bordello @ De Roma | Photo : Mathias Verschueren โ€“ June 3rd 2023

We made it. Part two will ACTUALLY contain a written record of the ACTUAL performance. Pinky promise. (I think you may have just witnessed the birth of a new hyperfixation.) Spoiler?

During show selfie up the top of the stairs at de Roma
During show selfie up the top of the stairs at de Roma. Sweating and smiling.
(THE sign of good music!)


The end. For NOW!

Huge thanks to de Roma for the beautiful professional shots I get to use.
Huisfotograaf Mathias Verschueren en Jef: <3!

GOGOL BORDELLO – Saturday June 3rd 2023, De Roma Antwerpen

Follow Gogol Bordello

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Guided by Angels – Ode to Amyl (And The Sniffers) in 3 parts

  • Part one: Rounding off the Edges – Guided by Angels
  • Part two: Live! Amyl And The Sniffers (Trix)
  • Part three: Guided by Amyl

When I heard Guided by Angels for the first time, I got into a heated discussion if they might be a Christian band (theyโ€™re not). Itโ€™s not always that I look up the lyrics immediately, (though it does happen A LOT) but in this case I just fell in love instantly. If I hadnโ€™t already fallen head over heels for that pumping intro riff.

When they (inevitably, obviously) make a movie about my life, this song is going to be on the soundtrack. Right next to The Dresden Dollsโ€™ Girl Anachronism. Both songs just radiate ADHD energy to me.   

Energy, good energy and bad energy
I’ve got plenty of energy
It’s my currency
I spend, protect my energy, currency

Guided by Angels
Rounding off the Edges - Guided by Angels pt. 1 - Number 37 n the series.
Rounding off the Edges – Guided by Angels pt. 1 – Number 37 in the series.

I had to use these words somehow, in the Rounding off the Edges Series. And I did. And believe me when I say I am not yet done with their words.
All this to say: I absolutely love this band. 

Another few lyric favourites:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LuL1U4BRbOo


Does my opinion really make you that sick?
Every decision, every consequences
My choice is my own, my body’s my own
Opinion is my own, I own it, I own it

And I would rather figure it out the hard way
Even if it takes a little more time
I want all the experiences I have
To be explicitly exclusively mine

Choices

Does my opinion really make you that sick?
Every decision, every consequences
My choice is my own, my body’s my own
Opinion is my own, I own it, I own it

And I would rather figure it out the hard way
Even if it takes a little more time
I want all the experiences I have
To be explicitly exclusively mine

Freaks to the front

Live! Amyl And The Sniffers (Trix)

Australian invasion of Belgium – Part one! (See The Chats for part 2)

I got to see them at Trix on November 15th 2022 and I seriously almost started crying in the audience. To say it had been a rough few months for me would be an understatement. This gig was quite literally the first fun activity I had planned since the end of August. And I still didnโ€™t really feel like going, even though I had been looking forward to it for over a year.

So I just stood there and let the energy the band emits (the song is not wrong!) wash all over me. I felt the loud basses coursing through my body. I felt the happiness and enthusiasm of the audience I was in (and then I’m not even addressing that same feeling radiating off of the stage). I felt like somewhat of a person again. Music is my home and Amyl And The Sniffers made me feel SO SO welcome.

At the time I wasnโ€™t in a writing state of mind, so I never gave them the review they deserved. But everything felt a little lighter after that day. Got to meet the lovely Amyl (Amy Taylor) & Sniffer Dec Martens post-show, hanging out by their bus. Great and funny people, so down to earth and genuinly nice. You can tell by my crazy joyous smile. Next time they’re around, I will write them that review and then some!

Julie and Dec Martens of Amyl And The Sniffers at Trix november 2023
Julie and Dec Martens at Trix november 2023

Guided by Amyl

I search, search
For the angels guiding my energy
They’re so heavenly
I love their energy
Angels return my energy heavenly
….
From the angels heavenly guidedโ€”fuck!

Guided By Angels

It might not surprise you that I have a soft spot for the lady Amy(l) who is everything I want to be when I grow up. (Yes, she is 10 years younger than me, I just never had the right role models growing up. Still learning!) The above lyric rings so true to me. (See: Circle in a Square Puzzle.) It is so hard to find the people who bring the best out in you. And so glorious when you do find them.

It took me way longer than I would have liked, but I have found some of my angels both near me and in a ‘love-you-from-afar-way’. Both are represented in the below picture.

Amy Taylor (Amyl and the Sniffers), Clumsy Crane and Seriously Hilary at Trix in november 2023
Amy Taylor (Amyl and the Sniffers), Julie and Seriously Hilary at Trix in November 2023

Amyl and the Sniffers ,15th of november 2023, Trix antwerpen

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On the road with Jack Kerouac

clumsy crane studio jack kerouac

As a 36 year old, I finally understand why my younger self gravitated towards this sentence. Which is why I finally visualised it.

I was so rattled, entranced and inspired by this one line when I first read it, I may have completely forgotten to read the rest of the book. (#adhdproblems)

Then again, it has been with me now for over 20 years, wandering in and out of my consciousness. It acquired new meanings along the way but was always a beacon of recognition.

Anyway. Understanding yourself and your place in the world is so important. Just paying it forward. To whom it may inspire โค๏ธ

I used Canva and Snapseed, but don’t ask me to repeat this proces.

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Circle in a Square Puzzle

Circle in a Square Puzzle - Original artwork by Clumsy Crane Studio

Living with Neurodivergence

I am a person. But not like the others. I don’t fit the mold. I’m a circle in a square puzzle.

Yes this sounds dramatic. I’m too old to care. It feels like I am not the same shape as other people. I myself am coming to terms with that. A part of me LOVES being neurodivergent. I see SO much so many other people can’t see. But I also FEEL so much other people don’t feel as deeply. Which can be both amazing and awful, even at the same time.

Because everything is too much all at once and the world doesn’t fit my circular mold. I have to mold myself into a square to fit. And I cannot. I can tell the odd fib, though I’m admittedly bad at it.

But it is impossible for me to hide my true self, however much I may want to be the mysterious person at the back people are intrigued about. I just leak out. As soon as I feel I find my people, I stop putting on that mask.

And sometimes it is okay and I find understanding and it’s like magic. Other times, it places me so much outside of things, I forget where I’m supposed to be. And it takes me a while to notice that ‘my people’ are just ‘tolerating my presence’, not so much as actually accepting me. And when my brain does finally come to that realisation, it fucking hurts. Physically as well as mentally.

People see neurodivergents mostly as ‘unfeeling’. Autistic people don’t have emotion or empathy. They’re an AI like ChatGPT that just reasearches and mimics human behaviour. Fuck ALL of that. All the ASD people I have encountered, interacted with and read about were the exact opposite. They FEEL SO MUCH they don’t have the words to articulate just how much goes on inside.

Not necessarily because autistic people are inherently stupid as is often a stereotype. Far from it, more like. We see and feel the world differently. It is why ASD is often misdiagnosed as hypersensitivity. (Hello, my name is Julie and I am one of those misdiagnoses.) Yes, we are hypersensitive to our surroundings (Combine that with ADHD and you might just feel like you just dropped acid and the world is all COLOURS and DISTRACTIONS, but anyway.) which means our brains take a LOT of time and effort to take in a random sequence of events.

A neurotypical brain will ignore all the bits are usually deemed unnecessary/not relevant. An ASD/ADHD brain (Talking from experience, possibly other types of neurodivergence et al as well.) processes everything all at once. It is LOUD. It is messy. It is confusing. We get scared and overwhelmed.

Temple Grandin referred to it best in ‘Animals in Translation: The Woman Who Thinks Like a Cow.’ She states that she feels people with autism (or maybe even neurodiversity in general), in her experience, seem to relate well to animals. In the sense that they both get overstimulated by a world that feels unfamiliar and in response react erratically to it, when seen from the vantage point of the people whose world they ‘inhabit’. I understand the woman who thinks like a cow and both adores and understands cows. (See: my Google Photos archives for reference. So. Many. Cows. And you don’t even know how many cow accounts I follow on all the socials. Cows are THE SHIT. They deserve their own post. Anyway.)

So, I feel that I am cattle. Not in the conspiracy theorist ‘You’re all sheep man!’, but in the sense that I am in a world that isn’t familiar to me. And that it doesn’t react the way I anticipate it to react (to me). I sometimes feel like a scared cow, driven from (what I at least assume was) my herd, anxious because someone also left a glaring yellow glove on the fence and I don’t recognise it. You’d have to really read the book to get the full comparison.

In short, cows in one of her facilities reacted frenziedly to some stimulus that in the end turned out to be a yellow glove on a fence, because the yellow makes it look different and scary to their dichromatic eyes. Another story was about the contrast between the bright sunlight versus the perceived darkness in an entryway when trying to get them in for shots for instance. Combined with her recommendation for people with autism (I believe it was in ‘Thinking in Pictures: my life with autism) to try rose tinted glasses for better reading/viewing, it made me draw the comparison. (By the way, I also now wear rose tinted sunglasses and it has seriously been a gamechanger. I kept having the issue that my sunglasses were too dark to see properly in most cases, but if I didn’t wear them I would be blinded, even by limited sunlight. Now I can wear them all the time without being visually impeded. I also no longer have any issue going from the sunny garden into the darker house, huzzah!)

To any other person, it is a stupid yellow glove they ignore because it is not important in the grand scheme of things. But to me it is an eyesore that starts infiltrating my every being. It is out of place, it is wrong. MOO MOO! And the herd manager, or whoever is in charge of the cows, will say, ‘oh that cow is unruly, don’t mind her, she’s the worst of the herd’. Whereas the poor creature is just scared of the unknown. The glove. That bright yellow thing on the fence is moving in the wind and taunting her.

I’ve learned a lot about myself in the last year since my ‘half’diagnosis. For fucks sake, I read a book by Peter Vermeulen on autism that felt like my own instruction manual I had somehow always lost. How are you, with you dumb ASD test still designed for (probably cis, white male) kids, going to tell me that I am not on the fucking spectrum. Mostly because I mask so well my own partner saw me as a different person I truly was inside because I didn’t know just HOW much I was masking. I thought I took it all the way off for the people I felt safe with. Apparently I could not even manage that.

What I learned most is that I can THRIVE. If allowed. If encouraged. If understood. I had a few mentors that subconsciously tapped into that. I could be the best person, employee, friend, whateverthefuck, if they just understood. Or not necessarily understood, but at least understood that that force inside is so great, it only needs nurturing and safety.

I leave you with a quote from Peter Vermeulen. ‘You are not difficult. You are just having a difficult time.’

Small note concerning the image. That line popped into my head while working on my series ‘Rounding off the Edges”. This series and at least on of its subseries will be highlighted on here soon. You can find bits and pieces of it on the clumsy crane studio Instagram account if you’re curious.

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