Fremde Zeit

A conversation between Me and me

Me: What was that?

me: what?

Me: Sentimental, retard shit in your previous post

me: Just some words coming into my head

Me: fuck your thought vomit…think before you publish some stupid ass nonsense

me: I didn’t want to

Me: What? whaaaaaat? you didn’t want to what? To think? Are you really telling me that you didn’t want to think?

me: I guess so…

Me: you are even dumber than I thought…fuck it! So you are saying that while you were writing that stupid shit you weren’t thinking…ok what were you doing then? What can someone be doing while writing?

me: following an intuition

Me: Hahahahhahahaha…you are fucking funny you know, maybe you would be better off as a comedian… no no wait before you get any idea’s in your head…YOU can not be a comedian…well you can while you are trying to be a writer or filmmaker or whatever else but do not try to be a comedian because that will make even a greater fool of you…

me: I was not planning to

Me: thank god! There is at least something we are on the same page about…

me: Whatever…if you would please excuse me I have a synopsis to write…

Me: All right, all right go and keep yourself busy…waste your time…but before you go I have another question to ask you…if you allow me…

me: Whatever

Me: Why the fuck do you write in English? Are you American? English? did you study in English? is your mom or your dad English?

me: I don’t know

Me: What the fuck? you could write in Farsi or Dutch or even maybe Turkish but English? Give me a break and pull yourself together…

me: I think it is now about time that you should stop…leave…or whatever else not to bother me…

Me: oh yeah sure, you are of course one of those HSP’s who could not handle CRITICISM? Is that why you want me to leave? Because I don’t tell you that you are so sweet and great? Because I don’t say things you would like to hear?

me: please…let me get back to my work

Me: muahahahahaha…did you really say “work”? hahahahaha…you keep surprising me…but ok…fair enough…I let you go back to your “W  O  R  K” but you have not given me an answer yet.

me: To what?

Me: Why English?

me: I really have no idea…somethings appear in English in my head, sometimes in Farsi, and sometimes in Dutch…I guess I have difficulties with Dutch because it always has a bitter after taste. In English I don’t mind to make mistakes, I feel free even though my vocabulary is smaller than in Dutch. The same goes for Farsi, but my Farsi is of a teenager girl who has been stuck in the 80’s so in the end does not feel so good either…English is more neutral I guess…maybe that is what it is what makes me feel more free in writing…

Me: I appreciate it when you try to make sense out of the things you do…keep trying…maybe one day you will make sense for real…I am finished…you can go now!


Ooit moest ik mijn handen hieraan vuil maken.
Het is altijd een fantasie van me geweest. Niet alleen toen ik een klein meisje was. Nog steeds. Het lijkt me heerlijk. Het is niet zoiets van ik voel me slecht en daarom wil het. Of ik voel me niet gehoord en dat zorgt voor die behoefte. Het heeft helemaal niets te maken met iets. Het is een oerdrang.

Iedereen zou bij haar of zijn verjaardag even moeten schreeuwen… langer kan ook natuurlijk.
Dat zou fantastisch mooi zijn.
Je hoeft er geen taal voor te kennen.
Je hoeft er geen geld voor te hebben.
Je hoeft niet na te denken of je je een vrouw of een man voelt. Of je wel of niet in het juiste lichaam zit.

Of je wel of niet gelovig bent. Of je wel of niet slim bent.
Je hoeft ook niet per se aardig of onaardig voor te zijn. Je hoeft ook niet origineel te zijn.
Mooi of lelijk maakt ook niet uit.
Links of rechts of geen mening, allemaal goed.
Wel of niet milieubewust is ook geen voorwaarde.
Je hoeft niet in een bepaalde gemoedstoestand zijn.
Je hoeft alleen maar je mond open te doen en het hardste geluid te maken die je kan maken.

Misschien moet ik op FB of Insta een oproep plaatsen : )


In the tram, on my way to pick up my little girls from school, I was staring out of the window. The stormy weather, dark grey clouds and little spots of blue skies were changing much quicker than I could follow them.

I was thinking about a sentence that came to my mind as a reaction to someone on Instagram who labeled a film he had seen, as cinematic masturbation. As usual I reacted a thousand times to his comment on the film but all my reactions stayed in my head. The sentence “All that is man made is masturbation” kept repeating in my head.

While pondering about this I heard a mumbling that attracted my attention.  A boy I think, 14 or 15 years old was staring out of the window. He had a beautiful face covered with signs of puberty.  He was quietly mumbling, words and sounds which didn’t make sense to me.

He then pulled his sleeves as if he wanted to cover his fingers. While still mumbling and making sounds he put his sleeves in his mouth, covered his face in his hands en kept pulling and biting his sleeves. The further we would get to the last stop the more he would move as if he didn’t want to reach his destination.

When we were almost arriving, just before the tram would stop, he stood up looking left and right moving as if he was looking for the best option to exit. He left the tram, he walked as if he didn’t want to but someone was pushing him. His bag fell, he picked it up and it fell again. The second time he waited before he would pick his bag up. He looked at it for a few moments, picked it up and as if someone pushed him to walk again, he started moving.

I had to make a turn to reach the school. He went the opposite direction. I kept wondering, where is he heading to? Was there someone with him invisible to my eyes? He seemed so unreal, as if he had walked out of a film or as if he was a character in a book.



Paralysing Enthusiasm

Having started training Martial Arts again after 20 years, the first lesson was both confronting and comforting. It felt as if I had finally landed in the warm arms of my love for M.A. But I also realised that my body is now 20 years older.

On my third day of training, I felt like I was flying… and I for sure did fly ending up flat on the floor. I had twisted my ankle so badly that I could not get up. So a lesson learned the hard way. I guess in this case it was fine to push my limits, even though it would have been smarter to be aware of my body’s capabilities.

It seems to be a pattern appearing more often in my life. Paralysing enthusiasm. It could be an idea for a film, for writing something or maybe an abstract thought. No matter what it is that opens up in my brain and gets me excited I lose control. Ending up flat on the floor not being able to get up for some time.

When I was a child I used to jump when I was excited. I would jump so much that I would get tired without having set a step towards whatever I was thrilled about.

Nowadays I only jump in my head and get myself exhausted. Until a few weeks ago. I had a dream. I remember that there was a cook, there were two wolves and a tiger. The tiger jumped towards me moving slow motion in the air I was watching it and wondering if it was the tiger moving in slow motion or was it the way I was looking at him. I wanted to raise my hand when I realised that the two wolves were halfway eating my arms. The cook dressed in extremely clean white uniform, with an immaculate white apron over his humongous belly, was stirring in a pan as if he was in love.

The next day when I woke up, I thought about taming my enthusiasm whenever it shows up and do something with my life.