Category: Inner Child

De Mechelse Gruwelverhalen Wandeling

Met Mysterieus Mechelen op tocht door mijn stad.

Klein Julieke was al vroeg fameus gefascineerd door griezel, gruwel en mysterie. Van de Griezelbus naar de Kippenvel reeks. Van de heksen van Roald Dahl zo goed als meteen richting Stephen King. (Het mocht nog niet, maar ik leende mijn vaders bibliotheekkaart lang voor de bib me King-rijp achtte.) Naar de X-Files mocht ik dan weer niet kijken, maar stiekem hielden Scully en Mulder me toch gekluisterd aan het scherm. UFOโ€™s waren daar de rode draad, maar de mystieke en bizarre wezens in de monster-of-the-week afleveringen vond ik toch altijd het meest meeslepend. De recente opleving van creepy ghost stories in series als The Haunting of Bly Manor en op een geheel ander niveau Stranger Things en remakes van klassiekers als IT doen mijn horror-hartje heropleven.ย 

Zitten er mythes, monsters en toverkollen in de boeken, films of series die ik verslind? Dan is de kans groot dat het me zal bekoren! De Mechelse Gruwelverhalen wandeling van Mysterieus Mechelen stond dan ook al JAREN bovenaan op mijn bucket list. Hoog tijd om eindelijk eens mee te lopen door het mysterieuze verleden van mijn favoriete stad! Afspraak aan het Opsinjoorke op de Wollemarkt (Voor de niet-Mechelaars, die kerel is eigenlijk al een gruwelverhaal op zich, maar goed, daarvoor zijn we niet hier!) op een uiterst aangename na-zomeravond in de herfst. Beginnen onder het licht van mijn favoriete toren. Ik kan het niet laten om, voor de mogelijk al honderdste keer, nagenoeg dezelfde foto te nemen van die toren die zoveel jaren geleden mijn hart heeft gestolen en ondertussen symbool staat voor thuiskomen.

sint romboutstoren Mechelen

Mechelen bruist vanavond van de activiteit, maar de geluiden van de stad verdwijnen al snel naar de achtergrond, als decor voor de duistere verhalen die gids Erwin Horckmans met heldere en goed dragende stem belicht. Normaal gesproken ben ik razendsnel afgeleid door wat er rondom mij beweegt, maar hier word ik meteen helemaal opgeslorpt door de kronieken van mijn stad!

Ik moet eerlijk bekennen dat ik bij het horen van de historiek rond de boerenkrijgers en hun massagraf รฉven was geschokt. Ik verwachtte me aan โ€˜onschuldigeโ€™ fictieve horror, geen waargebeurde verhalen over oorlog, dood en verderf van mijn medemens.

Gruwelverhalen indeed, griezelen dat doen we wel met Halloween!ย 

Bon, kleine mentale switch dus, maar top-gids Erwin maakt dat er van teleurstelling geen moment sprake kan zijn. Zijn levendige en visuele manier van vertellen zorgt er al snel voor dat ik het gevoel heb dat we over zijn schouder meekijken, langs de eeuwen heen. Ik voel me een anachronistische toeschouwer in het Mechelen van de 17e eeuw en beleef mijn stad op een heel andere manier. Los van de gruwel in de verhalen, zit er ook veel geschiedenis in verwerkt en ik heb hier enorm veel bijgeleerd over mijn stad. Het voelt een beetje onwezenlijk dat er achter de prachtige gevels van die gebouwen die ik al zo vaak van buitenaf bewonderde, zoveel afschrikwekkende gebeurtenissen hebben plaatsgevonden.ย 

Een brandstapel aanleggen is niet zo maar ‘vuurkestook’. Om een efficiรซnte crematie der Tooveresche te voorzien is er werk aan de winkel. Gids Erwin overloopt de handleiding!

De historiek van de Mechelse heksen en hun vervolging is boeiende materie voor iemand als ik, met enerzijds een voorliefde voor Tooveresche, (zoals ze in de Mechelse heksenvervolgingsvonnissen, nog steeds te raadplegen in de stadsarchieven, worden genoemd.) en anderzijds een redelijk feministisch en atheรฏstisch kantje. Eรฉn van de redenen waarom ik zo veel hou van Terry Pratchett (lees alhier zijn ode) is zijn voorliefde voor dit soort verhalen รฉn zijn HEERLIJKE heksen. Stuk voor stuk intelligente vrouwen, ver voor op hun tijd, verketterd door de clericale patriarchie. (Donโ€™t get me started, because you will not shut me up. Ontdek ze vooral zelf, van Granny Weatherwax tot Tiffany Aching, topwijven stuk voor stuk! <3) Dat kwam voor mij ook wel op de voorgrond in de verhalen die Erwin uitkoos en hoe hij ze ten berde bracht. Ik was dan ook niet verwonderd te horen dat zijn fascinatie voor het betere spookverhaal in de mistige vlakten en donkere pubs van het Verenigd Koninkrijk was ontsproten.

Halte 'De Duvelkes' of het Duivelshuis (Mechelen)
Halte ‘De Duvelkes’ of het Duivelshuis (Mechelen)

De verhalen over arme boerenjongens in de oorlog en de heksenverbrandingen zijn dan wel vaak zware kost, Erwinโ€™s gitzwarte gevoel voor humor en sappige omschrijvingen halen de scherpste kantjes er wel af. Ook de afwisseling met enkele spookverhalen en mythische monsters als de Nekker, maakt het iets minder donker aanvoelen, daar in de schaduwen van onze stad.

Ik ben alvast grote fan en loop zeker nog eens mee met een van de andere wandelingen van Mysterieus Mechelen. (De volgende staat al met stip in mijn agenda te pronken!) Tussendoor heeft Erwin me ook enorm getriggerd om zelf te gaan graven in de krochten van het mysterieuze verleden van mijn stad.ย Ideale hyperfixatie voor de komende winter, lijkt me!

Alle praktische info rond aankomende wandelingen vind je op de website van Mysterieus Mechelen. Niet twijfelen, gewoon doen! (Als je durft, mwoehahahaaaa!)

Volg Mysterieus Mechelen:

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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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Liefde voor Sarah Boo Punkelmees (en mijn rechterarm.)

In oktober van 2021 besliste ik dat ik eindelijk de tattoo zou laten zetten waar ik al enkele jaren op aan het broeden was. Iets van een innerlijk kind op een schommel en de grote boze wereld daarrond. Mijn idee was vaag maar de fotografische imprint in mijn brein heel gedefinieerd.

In verschillende berichten en telefoontjes probeerde ik aan mijn uitverkoren artieste uit te leggen wat ik net bedoelde. Het eerste idee dat Sarah me doorstuurde was fantastisch mooi, maar helaas niet mijn tattoo. No problem, back to the drawing board. Het lukte mij even niet om het idee beter verwoord te krijgen, en Sarah had het ook even veel te druk, dus ontstaat er een tijdelijke radiostilte.

Ergens zomer 2022 beslis ik dan toch nog maar eens een poging te wagen, Sarah nodigt me uit in de shop. Beste idee ooit. Sarah is sowieso ook een van de Purple People. We vuren ideeรซn op elkaar af, terwijl zij het in Procreate tot iets concreets begint te vormen en tegelijk driftig notities neemt. Ik raak nog geรฏnspireerd door een van haar ontwerpen dat ik vanuit mijn ooghoek opmerk, en de rest is history.

We beginnen met het babyvogeltje uit haar eerste ontwerp, met een boekje in de schoot. (Eentje van Sir Terry Pratchett, moest u het zich afvragen.) Die mag al gaan chillen op zijn schommeltje. Vogeltje, want ja, kleine hyperfixatie op vogels specifiek en dieren algemeen. Oh, en kan er nog een koptelefoontje bij? Muziek, u weet wel. 

De schommel hangt dan weer vast aan een (gespiegeld) dopamine symbool, omdat dat een belangrijk factor is voor mezelf, om in the moment op mijn schommeltje te geraken. Het boek, de headphones en de schommel zelf als herinnering aan wat me dopamine geeft. Woorden, noten en verbondenheid met mijn innerlijke kind.

Het oog binnen de dopamine is gebaseerd op het ontwerp aan de muur. Het staat symbool voor de kaleidoscopische blik die ik op de wereld heb. Opnieuw, een herinnering voor als ik vergeet van รฉcht te kijken naar de kleine, mooie dingen.

Het schaduwkonijn dat errond zit is volledig Sarah haar geweldige ingeving. Een perfecte, maar toch niet te angstaanjagende afbeelding van de grote boze wereld rondom mij. Want als ik op alle andere elementen let, is de wereld ook draaglijk en niet echt ZO boos.

  • Innerlijke kind, check!
  • Grote ‘boze’ wereld, check!
  • Permanent visuele herinnering aan wat u energie brengt en beschermt tegen die ‘boze’ wereld, check!

Het wordt september en we beginnen eraan. Ik ben GEK van het ontwerp. Maar dan wordt het winter, in mijn hoofd en daarbuiten. Ik voelde me op een bepaald moment zo slecht, dat ik mezelf aanpraatte dat deze tattoo een foute impulsbeslissing was, waar ik nog spijt van zou krijgen. 

Dat maakt het des te mooier hoe ik vanaf het begin van korte-mouwen-seizoen 2023, opnieuw met veel liefde naar mijn arm begon te kijken. En vanaf vandaag ligt daar dus nog een extra laagje liefde over. 

Ik lig hier in de tuin een eenzame vaderdag te vieren met alleen muziek als gezelschap. (En dat is OK, het voelt niet alleen.) Maar door hier zo te te liggen soezen in de zon, met muziek in mij oren beginnen mijn gedachten te verdwalen in patronen.

lk besef net hoe super profetisch deze tattoo is voor de mentaliteitswijziging die ik in de laatste 2 weken aan het doormaken ben. En voor de relatie als dochter van mijn vader. Als in, toen ik ze liet zetten was ze hyperrelevant en sprekend, en nu heeft ze nog twee extra betekenislagen gekregen die ze nog ZO veel belangrijker voor me maakt. 

De timing rond deze tattoo en keuze voor deze artieste is al om verschillende redenen zeer synchronistisch gebleken. Deel van dat verhaal is niet van mij alleen, en ga ik hier niet uit de doeken doen. Je zal me moeten geloven op mijn woord.

Als ik mensen die een tattoo overwegen iets kan aanraden: de juiste artiest is veel belangrijker dan het juiste idee. En laat het rusten als het nog niet is wat je zoekt. Je zal hooguit een ontwerp moeten betalen waar je later misschien nog iets mee kan op een of andere manier.

*Een bedrag dat mee in de prijs van mijn uiteindelijke gezette tattoo opnieuw werd verrekend. Voordeel als je bij dezelfde artiest blijft. Maar nooit een verplichting. Wel om hen te betalen, want ook het uitwerken van een tattoo is voor hen werk. Vaak veel meer dan een leek kan vermoeden.

Voor mij was de juiste artiest in dit geval Sarah Boo Punkelmees. (De naam alleen al, komaan!) Het was misschien een zware bevalling maar ik denk dat we alle twee uiteindelijk uitermate enthousiast zijn over het eindresultaat. (En ik althans ook over het proces.)

Los van een super getalenteerd tekenaar en tattoo artist is ze trouwens ook een pracht van een mens, en een extra inspiratie om te leven zoals mijn tattoo het me aangeeft. Met een open blik op alles wat belangrijk is. โค

Volg Sarah Boo Punkelmees en de shop The Lost Oasis waar ze werkt. Het loopt daar vol van Purple People volgens mij, met elk hun eigenwijze stijl en aanpak!
ALLEN DAARHEEN! (En zeg dat ik u gestuurd heb!)

Ik had kunnen zoeken dewelke ik het leukste vond, maar dan had ik volgende week nog niet op publish geklikt, dus hierbij haar laatste post! (Die ik voor de duidelijkheid dus ook absoluut bangelijk vind he!)
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Synchronicity in Threes

About keeping in touch with your inner child (and following all your old dreams.)

Okay, you might view *ALL OF THIS* (gestures wildly to this blog) by now as a dramatic midlife crisis. I call it keeping it touch with your inner child, because they knew what was up. (Maybe not necessarily about everything, but about the most important things.)

Anway, I was recently advised, (among many other things, but this one was the one I struggled with.) to use prayer as a means of getting through bad thoughts or moments. Not in a God shall smite Thee way, but more like any form of higher power you believe in. And I don’t really believe in a deity or other higher power. I mean, I love and worship Mother Nature daily, but I wouldn’t ask her for help with my issues. (She has too much work already, saving the bees.)

But the answer was so clear to me and has been staring me in the face with every blog & social post Iโ€™ve written in the past couple of weeks. I believe in the concept of synchronicity. I was pretty sure I wrote about it on my old blog, which Iโ€™m slowly trying to rehaul over to the current iteration. I was looking for that post and came across this one from 2010.

Written on the THIRD of June in 2010. The last few weeks and months have revolved around the number three in way or another. Just check this series called Pete, Me, And The Devil Makes THREE for instance. (A tour in THREE parts, full of THREES.) In the last crazy week of performances, Gogol Bordello finished the bill at De Roma onโ€ฆ You guessed it, the motherfucking THIRD of June of 202THREE, 1THREE years after writing that blog. (I know, I know, I should get to writing that Gogol Bordello love letter, but I am BOMBARDED BY SYNCHRONICITIES in THREES, so give me a second to catch my breath. – Also, I am writing this bit from the future where the review of the actual performance of the band is done: read it here!)

What does Gogol Bordello then have to do with anything I hear you wondering? (Aside from me accidentally finding this above song while simply looking for a gif and wondering how this would sound in a Gogol-Flavour.) The world needs this Eugene, the universe is telling me to tell you!). Well, they’re the Purple People. (I’ll explain later) What I mean is that I found community and meaning in music last week, in so much more ways than one. Walking out of de Roma that THIRD of June, I made a decision.

I am going to stop trying to see which parts that could fit me, and focus again on the parts that have always fit. Writing. Music. Yes!

After which I, by the way, totally accidentally located the THREE Brits I was trying to interview between the two encores. (That’s a show in THREE parts, in case you were counting.) I had lost all hope of finishing that bit of the story by then. They were the only people we crossed on a half hour trek to the car. They sang me MMMbop which was synchronicitous in and of itself.
My sis and I went to see Hanson together a few times now. They’re amazing musicians. Also, did you know they are a TRIO and the last show we saw was their 30TH Anniversary tour? Just saying.

The first one we were going to see, I missed because Amanda was in town and my sister understands my hyperfixated brain a little. But then Taylor and Amanda were playing not just on the same night but also the same venue. And when I saw them kick a ball backstage at Trix, my brain almost exploded. That performance you ask? The 3x3RD of the 2X6TH month of 2017 if you were wondering. But that weird and random link just settles it for me.

This as a complete aside just to mention all the THREES, but the rest of the Gogol Bordello Brits and their lovely rendition of MMMbop will grace this blog soon.

But, asides aside. The thing is, just yesterday I used that very same video (from the Prime Zomer van de Kijker campaign in 2010, not 2008 as I believed.) to cast my newest alter ego, Polexia Miller to this website, who is entirely based on THE MOVIE I AM PROMOTING IN THE CLIP. 

Yes, I am yelling. (Sorry, I get excited.) Yes, this all might not mean anything. It probably doesnโ€™t, and Iโ€™m realistic enough to know that full well. Theyโ€™re stupid coincidences. But I am choosing for them to mean something. 

Just like the jackdaw (another hyperfixation) that ‘followed’ me on my way to a big day, was the one I saved last year, wishing me luck this time. (Like any and all jackdaws I’ve since encountered.)

Just like I am choosing to see any reference to Johnny Cash as some sign from my dad.

Just like I am choosing to believe this came on my path (both literally and figuratively) for a reason. To learn to accept the donut, but also to see and appreciate the donut-givers.

“Gravity plays favorites, I know it cause I saw.“

I’m not sure if I’ve ever actually actively chosen to believe in something. And now I wholeheartedly CHOOSE to believe. In something that brings me great comfort. That some people could even find odd and stupid. I choose it and I own it. And it is goddamn liberating.

And that is what being a Purple Person is all about to me. That’s what my newest original soundtrack song means to me. Choose Purple. Choose anarchy from your own thoughts.

So that’s what I am going to do. Be the best purple version of myself, doing the things I love best. And I can never really tell what language the thing is going to take. So I am going to keep switching I am sorry if that is confusing to any readers out there, but I hope you appreciate the liberty I can feel by not limiting my creative quirks. And I think that no limits is best with the Gonzo Journalism style I’ve apparently adapted.

(Disclaimer: all the purples you see on this blog have been a personification of my inner Purple Person. I only very recently became obsessed with this song. Another beautiful synchronicity.)

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Polexia Miller (alter-ego #4)

“That groupie”? She was a Band-Aid! All she did was love your band. And you used her, all of you! You used her and threw her away! She almost died last night while you were with Bob Dylan. You guys, you’re always talking about the fans, the fans, the fans; she was your biggest fan, and you threw her away! And if you can’t see that, that’s your biggest problem. And I love her! I love her!

William Miller – Almost Famous
  • Pete Bernhard(One devil), me and the Devil makes Two! In totaal met vier. Ik ken mijn wiskunde.
  • The Chats at Trix - Josh Hardy, Matt Boggis | Clumsy Crane
    The Chats at Trix – Josh Hardy, Matt Boggis | Clumsy Crane
  • Zap Mama Marie Daulne en Julie
  • Julie and Dec Martens of Amyl And The Sniffers at Trix november 2023
    Julie and Dec Martens at Trix november 2023
  • Amy Taylor (Amyl and the Sniffers), Clumsy Crane and Seriously Hilary at Trix in november 2023
    Amy Taylor (Amyl and the Sniffers), Clumsy Crane and Seriously Hilary at Trix in november 2023
  • Post-show selfie with the one and only AFP
  • creeper view of the post-show-hug-selfie
    I got this picture courtesy of the only person I ever met at an AFP thing who was weird in a bad way. He let me know he snapped this pic (way better quality than my selfie) so I added him on messenger and then he turned full creep in 2 seconds. At least it brought me this picture. Photo credit,: THAT guy.
  • Me and Edward Ka-Spell
    Me, Edward Ka-Spell and the I can Spin a Rainbow merch (Amanda Palmer & Edward Ka-Spel – Trix – June 9th 2017)
  • Julie Van Craen WebWijf Zondag Zondag
    Julie Van Craen WebWijf Zondag Zondag

I just established my new alter ego. (Yes, yes, as if I needed any more. At least this one is not getting her own Instagram page.) Her name is Polexia Miller, she is the person I turn into when I experience (live) music.

She is part Band-Aid, part Rock-Journalist (and full on badass), so she gets the best of both worlds. The name is completely and lovingly inspired by the movie that made me want to be a (rock)journalist: Almost Famous*. My most feel good feel good film of all feel good films. Try to say that three times. 

Or, try and say โ€˜fantastischโ€™ as much as I do in the above video reviewing the movie for Prime. (Never before released to the general public.) The synchronicity (again, sorrynotsorry) of finding this today in the depths of my neglected Youtube archive made me get over the cringe of seeing myself say โ€˜fantastischโ€™ over, and over, and over. (And over, and over.) But it doesnโ€™t matter because I was still fucking right, that movie is a classic. 

Iโ€™ll probably never really write about movies anymore because I still find it hard to recommend a film without spoiling the plot. But thatโ€™s the beauty with rock (whatever that means) journalism. The only plot I can ruin is whether or not you should get that ticket.

Iโ€™m pretty picky about what I go see, because I want to see SO much. I donโ€™t think Iโ€™ve ever written a review for a performance I didnโ€™t like and I probably won’t.

More to come still with Part 2 and 3 of Me, Pete, me and the Devil Makes Three, Gogol Bordello, The Interrupters and Brakrock soon. (Also The Rabids, but that is awaiting important input!)

So anyway, enjoy Polexia Millerโ€™s wacky adventures in live music land and see where it goes!

POLEXIA MILLER ON TOUR

*Along with April O’neil in the series Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles from 1987. (Earlier she was apparently a computer programmer, later she became a warrior. I think the eighties got the most sexist version, but still, she was a good role model for young me.) Same goes for Rory Gilmore from Girlmore Girls, her dedication to be a journalist was the second influence. And I said I never had female role models. For shame. 

Forgive me father, for I may sin tonight.

Polexia Aphrodisia 
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