People are once again divided into 2 groups by yours truly. There’s plant-people, who put all their love and care into nurturing and growth. And there’s flower-people, who enjoy 2 weeks of color after which said bringers of happiness are trashed.

OK, not everybody fits in the 2 groups I keep devising. But a clear preference can reveal character. Just like Tarot cards or body language, the more groups you can be put in, the bigger your cluster gets, the quicker you can be read. People are behaviour-clusters, said the sociologist.

Film critics are divided into 2 groups. There’s the ones who know everything about everybody who worked on the picture and all the ones they did before. And there’s the ones that can tell you something about the movie. The first group writes for the first group, the second writes for the people.

One roll of pink toilet paper in the white gents room. Most disturbing. A touch of poetry from the life-drained elderly couple that wipes the floors and replaces light bulbs?

Hold that ladder Harry.

And all that time he thinks of the pink roll he planted, his first act of rebellion. It’s a seed, he thinks. They will take notice. I did Harry. Keep fighting. And hold that ladder, for now.

Marc Dutroux‘ fact-file on crimelibrary.com may be slightly exaggerated, but this guy along with Andras Andy and others did send waves of disgust through Belgium for their crimes. It seemed like the the smallest villages had had been hiding the worst villains for years.

Zellik, where I work, no less so. The freak who walks his Doberman on the football field wants to give everybody a lift to the station. The old man by the cafe stepped out of his garage one day to shoot a picture of Heidi, grinning. If I go missing, comb the empty shed by the football field. And bring the press.

Biogeek’s back, after he dropped off the grid almost a year ago. I was happy to note he didn’t lose limbs or get married to a Turkish girl whose father forced him to work long hours in their belly dance store, occasionally feeding him apple tea and prunes. Sipping beer at Dawn Square, I full well sensed this was what’d been missing for long. Words would do this mixture of comradeship, science, adventure and boyishness no justice; so I stick to “Good to have you back”.

You figure God can decrypt tripple-DES in his head?

When I’m getting married, I’m going to the hairdresser 6 months in advance. That way, whatever this guild of evil-mongers comes up with, it can normalize by the time things matters.

It would be pointless to refer you non-Dutch folk to comic book hero Jommeke, but picture a dome-shaped blond haircut that rounds just above the ears. That’s me since today. I will string this woman up with the rope I had her make from her own freshly shaved hair. She was equally cruel to your blogging Samson.

Speak of a slow news month. It’s been 4 weeks since I wrote, If I’d be Miss Frank you’d have buried an empty coffin by now presuming Hanz and Fritz finaly got to me.

Saw Eels yesterday, band composed of ever changing members around deranged leader “E”, as Mark Everett refers to himself. Their opening act was a vintage Russian stop-motion animation, so when that changed into a clip of E quotes during news interviews, we were an hour later and I was ready to ask my money back. They dropped the curtain and the band supported by 4 string-ladies played their distorted sound. Strings people. Instrument. Not underwear. Jeez.

The middle part, sandwiched between uninspired start and ending, made me drift off to Romania. Every image of Timisoara 4 years ago I have is stuck to an Eels song, because I took all their CD’s and discman in a protective bag (the size of 5 iPods, those were the days). It’ll always be nostalgic, my-parents-hated-me, Danny Elfman tingling music, no less since his mum died and sister hung herself last year.

Are you ready to Rock people?
Crowd cheers
Well I’m not.
Are you ready to not rock?
crowd cheers
That’s more like it.