My life as an amateur. Part 100.

This is my third poem 

of this month I don’t mind

about languages every day it’s mine

my turn to sit and watch the questionable

batteries

half full half empty the plan was to learn bookkeeping and fluent Japanese, collect jazz records and be occupied with all kinds of art including leftover fashion.

natuurevenementen

de nieuwe wereld in automatic. drive grootmoeders op vervalste

voedselbonnen de nieuwe 

wereld kan wachten luister!

de nieuwe wereld niet pitch

de rozebottel de oude hersenen

wachten op mazurka’s; ietsje

zuur van het midden

I am listening to Stan Getz on ‘I Giganti del jazz’ number 20, stepping besides me

this day

My life as an amateur. Part 99.

 I skipped the poem on the second day. But I read an interview with Louwrien Wijers, she speaks as a poet and she was befriended with all the great ( male) artists of the past century. She liked Rauschenberg and Beuys best. Because they were very kind and loving people. I planned to do nothing today. To get rid of the panic I am feeling when thinking of all the things I want to do. I plan to do nothing today. Paint one painting totally white, take all the oil tubes from the floor and clear one wall of my studio so I will be able to film a performance titled ‘all yours’. Maybe read one poem. One poem from ‘Springvossen’, nagelaten gedichten by Hans Faverey. 

My friend friend bought me a new Dual turntable because the other went too fast. I couldn’t find where to adjust it, it was an automatic system. Never go automatic is what I think, except when running. I am not sure about that even.

Each day there is a homeless man waking up in the front of our studio. He is really on himself, and doesn't wants too much fuss about his well-being. We don’t think it’s a good place to sleep, without cardboard or anything. But he thinks it is. 

I am not very good at hospitality, so I am not in a good mood with the sleepover sitting at my place at the table. It’s a friendly person but forgets to offer to help with the dishes. Probably he thinks that the kitchen is a sacred place. Genau.

I have been reading the poetry by Simone Atangana Bekono. Some poems are nicely rough in unorthodox forms. In my life as an amateur. Part 100. I will write my third poem of the month.

My life as an amateur. Part 98.

 I have decided to read one poem a day. I need an undefined area to linger.

ik weet helemaal

nergens van behalve dat het vandaag was

het leek wel op gisteren, een beetje

nieuwigheid in feite wit

ik lees afgedankte dichtbundels

van mijn buurman, mijn

buurman, mijn elegante doorrookte buurman

ik weet nergens wat van, bij de voordeur springt

morgen net op tijd terug, vele

vogels van die ene dichter

loop ik altijd achter ben bang

dat ik onbetamelijk droom 

The poem ‘Vele vogels’ by Kees Ouwens is from one of the poetry bundles my neighbour abandoned. It was so completely smoked I couldn’t hold it in my hands and close to my nose much longer than one poem. 

My life as an amateur. Part 97.

 Middenin

jouw land

eenzijdig

dat betekent 

middenin vanaf die kant

de zijde

één is