My life as an amateur. Part 76.

I brought these catalogi home. Contemporary Art New York Morning Auction, and other moments. I should have a look and put them outside again. I need to write every day. I am wearing nice clothes today, although I am not sure if I am in travesty. Yesterday I bought a body warmer from Barbour for women, a little bit too little. My shoes are a little bit too big. Today I will take things out. Or at least, when something comes in, something goes out. I do not want to be a hoarder. Hoarding is for other people.

Today I arrived in Bedburg-Hau, at the residency Artoll, to make artworks with rest materials brought in by the people living in the neighbourhood. I am going to capture some of their words. As a word hoarder probably. And I am planning to make a list with ideas for a better world.

My life as an amateur. Part 75.

 I have talking with a professional about my impossibility to be. Tonight I will make an altar. Tonight I will prepare my racing ike with thicker outer tubes. Tonight I will continue studying Japanese. There were two large boys with ponytails in the parking lot of the thrift shop. They both came by their own car, a pale yellow one and a metallic grass green one. They were rather small cars. But obviously fast ones. Today I will try to do everything as slowly as possible. And get rid of some possessions. As many possessions as possible. This is an eastern weekend, we are renting a house in the countryside. The weather is shiny with some cold wind. Most of the day we spend shopping in German Supermarkets. The biological products are so fmuch cheaper. I really felt like doing nothing these days. I made two videos and two drawings. I started reading ‘ A hundred  years in solitude’  by Gabriel Garcia Márquez. In Dutch. I feel embarrassed by my simple photos and videos. Maybe that’s how it should be.

The assistant of our family doctor asked to make a list of the transgender  places in and around Amsterdam, the best would be without a waiting list. They all have a waiting list, and even that’s full and closed. Anyway, I am going to make my own list and keep on waiting. It’s step one. Like the beginning of getting a present that’s not invented yet.

Amsterdam:

Kaleidos - gesloten wachtlijst - afwijzende toon

UniQ (Qpido/Levvel) - voor jongeren

Lang & Gelukkig - relationeel

Praktijk Koning-Grit - relatie/gezinstherapie 

Praktijk Winnie Hendriks - klein

Jij Genderzorg - open wachtlijst, geen persoonlijkheidsstoornis- gastvrije toon

Linea Lingmont - relatietherapie 

Groei & Glunder - Gender & Eigenheid - kind/jeugd

Praktijk voor Gendervragen

TranScreen (zelfhulp en ontmoeting) - filmfestival 

Transgenders Amsterdam ( zelfhulp en ontmoeting) - voornl. trans

Counseling Praktijk Amsterdam Oost - 

Klik Psychologen - gesloten

Utrecht:

Genderhealthcare - ook zeer geschikt met zeer lange wachttijden 

Humanitrans van Homerun Utrecht Stad ( z en o) - onvindbaar

Trans Utrecht & Beyond (z en o)

Psymens - onduidelijk 

Transgenderzorg Utrecht: Psychotherapie Wittevrouwen

Psymobil - expats

Psyq - budget website, fabriekstekst

The Safo Space - expats

I need to check out Alkmaar and Haarlem.

My life as an amateur. Part 74.

 ik waaier mij

ik waaier

het waaiert het waaiert het waaiert

HET WAAIERT

het waaiert mijn koelte

mij koel

( ik mijn koelie nog )

roze breek, mogen

mij roze koelie breek, mogen waaier ik mij

wat niet mij koel

vermag

My life as an amateur. Part 73.

 That’s how it is. ACG Vianen wrote ‘Orgaannevel’. Words are the tools for poetry. His word is about language as a difficulty to make clear what is being done, said and thought. Thank you ACG Vianen. For your words for me to use them as possibilities.

For today. Let me try to see with curiosity. A day with simple things. With real, maybe soft words. Can this reality be true. Or kind. Talking about kindness, I should send my nephew a message. Ask him how he is coping with his family, if his bike is stolen or broken. He doesn’t buy or use American made products anymore because of the horrific clown that’s doing its thing over there. Clowns never helped to feel better. Today was a Sunday, I ran six kilometers and we cycled to Diemen and back. Exercising works.

It’s Sunday again and I am trying not to talk without thinking it over twice. Every word seems to fail in use. I am reading an article in the newspaper, written by Mirjam Groen, about her diagnosis of Autism. She quotes a Classic art meme of a Victorian lady talking to another one: Are you ok? The other answers: I am acting like I am okay. Please don’t interrupt my performance.

For tomorrow I will make an altar so I can sit in front of it with my eyes closed. Or open. My mother used to clean her teeth with bleach. I have vivid memories of the odor.

My life as an amateur. Part 72.

 My family is very nice. I have no complaints. I need to read more poetry. Maybe start my own poetry society. At the moment I am reading ‘Mijn leven als mens’ written by Joke van Leeuwen, absolutely fabulous. And two or three other books. I will mention them later. Last night I was preparing a quiche and boiling dozens of tubes of ancient oil paint in order to get them opened. Once I participated in a talking group full  of people who barely left their houses during daytime. The therapist asked about our hobbies and told us about her's: hiking in the Sahara desert with her female friends.  A. advised me to read Saturday's newspaper supplement. It held an interview with a non-binary actor.

One day, I will wake up like something completely different. Something compatible with me. I don’t want to sound dramatic, but it will probably never happen. So I better get used to this very situation. Or get some action started. During the nighttime.

I need to buy some yellow bananas because our current ones tend to stay green.

Two days later they are still green. I put them on a place in our house with the greatest change of catching some sunlight. I don’t feel like doing anything. The water is flowing from a hose on the street. They , the handymen, are repairing a leek. First they have to take the water out. I made a short video. At this moment or period of months I am not quite sure of the brilliance of my work. I like languages. I would like to read Marcel Proust in French and A hundred years in solitude in Spanish. Yesterday A. brought a book of poems inside, very experimental poems. To be continued.

What the language.