June has come and almost gone, dominated by opposing feelings. Take work. My colleague Steve showed more anger than I dare to show, upon hearing (rather late) that I can’t stay. Man, he uttered, is that respect for all you’ve done? He knows I put part of my soul in my work, so he may feel that losing a job hurts me personally too. On the other hand: it was about time I left. When you got all you can out of a job, you move on. this is the proverbial kick in the bud to motivate my departure.

Even the weather’s been biased. The more sun, the more I radiate too, and the more I suffer from asthma.

2 days ago, I made a symbolic gesture. I walked at night to the video-store, instead of racing at my usual pace. I walked through the moonlit park and realised I live too fast. There are not enough small moments like these to recharge. So yesterday, I stopped abruptly riding to work, just to stare at the little ducks feeding in the river Deile.

I need a pace-maker.

Got me a sparking new hedgren rucksack today, after about 12 stores. These babies tend to last forever, so some consideration befor purchase is needed. Check out the “Extreme profile” model at Hedgren.

Dancing at her funeral

The girl who works at Club Geluk sat besides me briefly, as it was still early and the club was filling up slowly. Too slowly, I pointed out. She sighed. Yeah. Perhaps this concept is dead. The club, I mean. I knew she was right: this was not the first night the place filled up slowly, not reaching its saturation point.

As I started to move slowly, it felt like I was dancing to the funeral-party of this club. Dancing to the last tunes, accepting drinks from people soon out of a job. It immobilized me: this is the club I love more than any joint in Antwerp. I shook the feeling, telling myself there would be more concepts and more clubs. And besides: what better way to say goodbye to a dying club, than to dance and dance and dance?

Lovers scratch tatoos in the back of those they love. Each night they carve more detail in their work of art and love, for in the morning it will be gone.

Managers: terrified when there is nothing to manage. Strange breed.

Lilou, Christines cat, seems over her horny phase. I can actually enter the room without her sensitive nose picking up on my male hormones and going crazy, rolling over the ground staring at me, humping my leg, jumping on the keyboard over and over again as I write this. This is how people would woo if not for culture. Hold on to your knives and forks.

The Eurosong Festival seems to have created enough New Famous Nobody’s to fill up all summer festivals. Who cares if even the best of these made second last in Istanbul? The new blood seems a little less resistant to appearing in nude magazines than the Old Elite, but that can only be applauded. Way to go Roxane, try not to miss too much classes Elsie.

I finalized “Ring” this week, a 45-second 3D animation about… well… I have no idea. Check out the hot news item on the left, or in the Projects sections if you’re reading this way later.

Meanwhile I can’t deny feeling at least a little reluctant to go working on monday, having to see my new boss. That’s right: my last 4 months at the company will be marked by a fifth boss in 3 years time. If the man is wise as I’ve been told, he’ll ignore my existance. Then again, I’ve also been told that managers start to feel very itchy when there’s nothing to manage.

Christine Country

I know dear diary: I’ve been neglecting you. Then again, you’re only a collection of text files, and I’m a human expert at sharing time between work and fun. Oh baby, come on, don’t prowl like that, you’re a very sweet collection of text files, one of the most handsome ’round on the net, come to think of it.

Meanwhile, I haven’t fully recovered from my jet lag yet. Or how would you call travelling to Christine Country, where native inhabitants wake up at 1500 and party ’till the sun comes up. Great natives though.