Sunday, 31 May 2015


I love still life paintings. And being Dutch, I especially love the Vanitas paintings. Willem Claeszoon Heda, Jan Davidsz. de Heem, Pieter Cleasz. all Dutch painters from the Dutch "Golden Age" that I love to study their work.


vanitas is Latin for "vanity". The phrase "All is vanity" comes from Ecclesiastes 1:2 (Vanity of vanities, saith the Preacher, vanity of vanities; all is vanity.)

In art it is a genre of still-life painting that flourished in the Netherlands in the early 17th century. A vanitas contains collections of objects symbolic of the inevitability of death and the transience and vanity of earthly achievements and pleasures.

Vanitas paintings certain standard elements: symbols of arts and sciences (books, maps, and musical instruments), wealth and power (purses, jewellery, gold objects), and earthly pleasures (goblets, pipes, and playing cards); symbols of death or transience (skulls, clocks, burning candles, soap bubbles, and flowers); and, sometimes, symbols of resurrection and eternal life (usually ears of corn or sprigs of ivy or laurel).

Vanitas, Vanity? This poem by the talented Elisabeth Mayo says it all:

The word is not a vanitas but vanity

I love you, as a saint
with an aureole of gleaming autumn-burnt hair
an ecstatic shining and bright as the sun,
spilling forth with holy oil
with the face of a white-rose angel from Botticelli's brush,
with the heart of a tar-black demon, a serpent in the fiery bush,
a heavy pink blossom all dripping with honey
a sinuous and serpentine moth-silk scarf, fluttering in the summer air.

and I love you, loving and knowing that
I love you, as a painter
loves a streaked and bright tempura paint
here, sun-kissed as a yellow flower today,
revealing its thin translucent colours the next
and I love you, as one can only love
another who can only love a mirror
whether one made from moon-struck volcanic glass
or drawn from the lips of another.

Friday, 29 May 2015

I woke up with a song in my head

I woke up yesterday with a song in my head. Do you know the feeling when there is a song in your head that is on autorepeat all day? And you don't even like this song? I definitely don't like this song. Yet at a very serious meeting this line "let me show you Tel Aviv" stuck in my head. Very annoying indeed.

The song I'm talking about is "Golden Boy" by Nadav Guedj. I'm not the only one that didn't like it because he ended 14th in the ranking of the Eurovision Song Contest this year, that was won by Sweden by the way. So, I don't know what it is really (this is the guy that thinks that everything that is written after Bach died in 1750 is pop-music, remember?) but all day yesterday this song:

Three, two, one, hey!

I’m a golden boy
Come here to enjoy
I’m the king of fun
Let me show you how we do it
I’m a golden boy
Come here to enjoy
And before I leave
Let me show you Tel Aviv

Yes. Laugh.
Stupid song.

Thursday, 28 May 2015

Urinal etiquette

Today I want to share with you the deep secrets of the male bathroom. There is a strict etiquette, and it doesn't matter from what country you come from, if you are a male you are to abide these rules at the urinal:

Rule #1 Don’t speak unless spoken to, and even then, don’t speak

You stand at an urinal for one purpose, and one purpose only: to piss. You should only have one thing coming out of any orifice on your body at any given time; if one hole is open, the other should be closed. Leave the talking to politicians and woman (or in some unfortunate circumstances: women politicians). Here’s a phrase that will help you remember this rule:
“Hold your peace while you hold your piece.” 
Talking while conducting your business at a john is unbecoming of a man. A rule of thumb is not to utter one syllable from the second when the stream starts, until the last drop falls. If you don’t see an obvious problem with talking while going to the bathroom, here’s an elaboration of a few of the possible topics you could discuss, and the problem with each.

Topic: Children

Why you shouldn’t talk about it: So you’re holding your penis, standing next to a guy who is also holding his penis, talking about kids. I’ll say this much: If I’m ever standing next to a guy in a public restroom while he’s talking about children, I’m calling the police.

Topic: Work

Why you shouldn’t talk about it: What’s so pressing about your job that you have to talk about it while taking a leak? It’s hardly conversation worthy when you’re not standing at a urinal, so what makes you think anyone wants to hear about it with his dick out?

Topic: Wife

Why you shouldn’t talk about it: Nobody cares.

Topic: Sex Life

Why you shouldn’t talk about it: Talking about your sex life while at a urinal might cause someone to wonder why you were reminded of sex while taking a leak in the first place. Unless you feel comfortable outing yourself as somebody who enjoys being pissed on for sexual gratification, avoid it. Nobody wants to know what gets you off, especially if it involves another person squatting over your mouth.

Topic: Small talk, i.e. “How is it hanging”

Why you shouldn’t talk about it: Anyone who asks “how’s it hanging” doesn’t really want to know how “it’s” hanging, otherwise he could simply take a peek.

Rule #2: No Peeking

Under no circumstance should one ever peek at another guy’s unit while using a urinal. Think of it as visual kryptonite. Just don’t do it – I’ve seen friendships ruined over this. If you happen to catch a glimpse of your friend while he’s doing the deed, there’s nothing to talk about; just pick up your shit and go. Here’s another useful phrase to help you remember this important rule:

“Don’t gawk at the cock.”

You may be thinking “what’s the big deal, it’s just a penis, grow up!” No. You grow up. Think about it: You’re filling your eyes full of photons that bounced of another man’s penis. Those photons carry with them some amount of cock. You wouldn’t fill your eyes full of eye drops that had been bounced off another man’s dick, so why make an exception for quantum packets of light? After the initial feeling of anger and confusion subside, a subject who has witnessed the penis of another man stand at a urinal will soon experience the onset of disenchantment with life. Things that once tasted good will taste bitter, video games will start to suck, and he will eventually develop a taste for women’s literature (Gasp, Han). I can think of a few things I’d like having in my less less than a visual of some guy’s shaft. In fact a short list of these things follows:

  • Battery acid
  • Trapeze artists
  • Rabbit droppings
  • Bath water
  • Nail filings

This goes on and on and on, I’ll spare you that, but you are not allowed to miss:

The Order

This may come as a surprise to some, but which urinal a man chooses when he goes into a restroom makes a world of difference. It’s a well-known fact that using a urinal next to another man when you don’t absolutely need to means you want to have sex with him. If this isn’t your intention, then you must heed the order of the piss priority when you use a john. For example, if a restroom has four stalls and you’re the only person inside the restroom, you must choose the stall furthest from the entrance, next to a wall if possible, giving priority to urinals before toilets. The next man must then choose the next available urinal, keeping one stall in separation between you two at all times. If a third man comes into the restroom while the other two are going he must wait until either stall is no longer in use before he can go, unless it’s a dire emergency, and even then your peers are allowed to assume that you wish to partake in anal sex with another man.
In a worst-case scenario – one in which you are forced to use a urinal next to one that is already occupied – you should always use the stall to the right; never between two guys.

I have read this a long time ago and ever since I noticed the order. The writer is correct in all the times I paid attention to the order.

Wednesday, 27 May 2015

Bondwell 12

My very first computer. A Bondwell 12. This beauty. O, God seeing it again opens my heart and lets the 5 1/4 floppy disks in.

Isn't she beautiful?

It was in the mid 1980, 1984, 1985 when I had my first real portable computer. With a Z80 microprocessor with a clockfrequency of 4 MHz, 64K RAM Memory, 4K ROM, Two floppy disk drives (one for your program disk, another for your data and a 24 lines 80 character set display, yellow on black. It run on CP/M 2.2.

It was a portable PC, but a real, real heavy one. I could not find how much it weighed, but I can tell you, it was quite a bit.


What is now all click-and-go was in the time of two big floppy disks not as easy as all that. First you had to learn all the commands. For instance to copy a file from disk A: to disk B: you had to:

To copy the remaining files from disk 1 of 2, enter the
following PIP command.
A>PIP B:=A:*.*
This PIP command copies all the files in your disk directory to drive B from drive A. PIP displays the message COPYING followed by each filename as the copy operation proceeds. When PIP finishes copying, CP/M 2.2 displays the system prompt.

As easy as all that. The DOS generation (the next generation of operating systems) worked with similar commands. You recognize old people that have worked with DOS because they all know these weird * ? .not more than 8 letters before point.three letters behind point filenames. The flexible 5 and a quarter inch floppy disks were expensive, and fragile. You wanted to keep your hands away from the hole where the disk was visible and the computer heads read the data on the disk.


Now everybody uses Word, well, a lot of us anyway, but in those days Wordstar was THE PROGRAM. By May 1983 BYTE magazine called WordStar "without a doubt the best-known and probably the most widely used personal computer word-processing program". And it was. Everbody who had a computer knew Wordstar. And Wordstar came with my Bondwell 12 computer.

To move the cursor to the left you pressed the control key and typed S. Your cursor went over the text one character to the left. Magic! Control pressed and A and you went over to the next word!!! It is a revolution. And there is that menu screen that helped you typing. OK, it reduced your screen to 15 lines or so, but it was a small price to pay. 

Wordstar, Ah, seeing the screen brings back a lot of memories. That's right, control J is the Help. MicroPro's Wordstar was without a doubt the world leader in Word Processing software.


With my Bondwell (along with Calcstar a pre-pre-pre Excel version of a spreadsheet program) came Datastar. And I fell in love with Datastar. I fell hard for it. I thought it was the greatest program ever written. Datastar was - due to the file limit restrictions - divided in three small programs:
Formgen -> to make your database layout
Datastar -> if your layout was ready you could fill in the data
Reportstar -> to make all kind of reports of the database.

It was so great. The power Formgen gave you to force the user to type a certain type of character into each letter-field of your input screen. It was a dataorgasm. Really it was. Ah, I wish I had still that program. I loved it. Who needs a woman when you have Datastar? 

And so computing came to be my hobby in the eighties. I have so many wonderful memories of my first Bondwell. I only had it for two years,after that I bought an IBM PC XT. A real one, not a clone. But more about that later. 

Those were the days.

Tuesday, 26 May 2015

Women III

Notice the Nadu position

Maybe this picture can be added to those of Sunday and Monday. The text could be:
Melita wants to be dominated. Her friends tell her that it is sick, she should see a shrink and get a "normal" boyfriend.
And beneath the poster would say:
Melita, the only thing that counts is your free choice. And if you choose that trough submission you express your love in the deepest way possible,  what other people say or think is not important. It's you that is important.

Monday, 25 May 2015

Women II

How many people don't go the pool or the sea, although they love to swim? How many do deny these pleasures because of the way they look. Mariana doesn't care. And so she shouldn't.

It's such a victory for all women who love women and for all men that love men that in Ireland - the conservative bastion in Europe -  legalized the same sex marriage yesterday. Because love doesn't care about gender.

Find freedom in inner love.... Can't say it more pretty or more sincere than that.

The pain that hurts the most is often the pain you cannot see. Meet Rebecca, and believe me there are more Rebecca's out there you can ever imagine!

 I feel so much for couples that want kids so bad they do anything to become pregnant. It's so difficult to come to terms with not getting want you want the most of all. And it is just as difficult to stand up against the peer pressure that every woman should want kids.

My sister was grey at 30. Now she has this silver white hair that is just so beautiful. She doesn't look old. She looks what she is, a wise woman that has gone through a lot.

It's not a coincidence religions focus on women's hair. It's an essential part of their beauty. But who am I to judge someone who thinks she serves her faith by wearing something to cover it?  

Make up is to emphasize what is already beautiful. And most women don't need that. If you like it, fine. If you don't like it, fine.

Being married to someone who has been at War with her scale all of her life, the point Whitney makes is close to heart. Find happiness that is what counts.

So this was the last one. I think they are enough. Strange. I did look for the same list for men but didn't find it. I think Corol Rossetti did a wonderful job. It was a wonderful post to make.

Sunday, 24 May 2015


You have probably seen these pictures before. They have been viewed hundred thousands of times on Facebook. Still, I want you to show them one by one. First because I consider myself to be a feminist and I think it is important to show that to be different is nobodies business but your own, and second because the messages are so strong and so well portrait that they deserve to be saved in my collection of infinitesimal memorabilia.

Here is the first: Meet Alice. Casual Sex. Still a taboo not in the least created by other woman who have a strong opinion about Alice. Men call Alice degrading names for no other reason than that Alice scares them.

We live in a world that the perfect body is a body with no body hair. Even pubic hair is shaved off, like all men would like a woman that has no hair like a little girl does. The world needs more Amanda's that do what feels best for them.

More women are raped than you ever thought was possible. Even you know in your inner circle people, women, who are raped. Rape is the lowest thing a man can do to a woman. I know I present pictures of women in submission. But in each picture consent is obvious.
Men who have sex with women who don't want to have sex should be jailed.

Girls with tattoo are sexy, but they are just body decorations. Sometimes they make a body more beautiful than it already is. Sometimes not. It's the choice of the girl to have a tat (after careful consideration just like all things that will last).

In the Netherlands abortion is legal within the guidelines we have agreed on. Abortion is the easy way out for the male, but not for the woman that has the abortion herself. It will leave a scar that can only be healed with love. But it's the woman's right to decide what to do with her own body. And if she is not ready for the child, than abortion is the right choice.

Ah yes, Laura, my favourite. Clothes show who you want to be. Just like the way your hair does, or the amount of make-up. Dress in whatever feels best. If it is from the man-section of the store and it fits, well... who are we to judge on that?

Saturday, 23 May 2015


On the Rembrandt exhibition there were quite a lot of Rembrandt etches. Etches were popular in the 17th century. It allowed to make the artist to sell more copies of his work, it allowed the people that could not afford a painting to have the work of an artist in their home. The definition of to etch is according to the dictionary:

Engrave (metal, glass, or stone) by coating it with a protective layer, drawing on it with a needle, and then covering it with acid to attack the parts the needle has exposed, especially in order to produce prints from it:

The process can be repeated many times; typically several hundred impressions (copies) could be printed before the plate shows much sign of wear. This etch made by Rembrandt (Woman Bathing Her Feet at a Brook) in 1658, is so beautiful the expression "etched on my memory forever" is the most fitting in this context. You know, there are moments in time that will always stay with you, even after you have lost your memory. 

This etch is so breathtaking beautiful, (if you really take your time to look, you will see) you will never forget it. It will be etched in your memory forever.

Wednesday, 20 May 2015

First love

Do you remember your first love? Of course you do. Mine had red hair. And uncountable freckles on her face. Maybe that is why I still have a weak spot for red haired women.

First Love

With love so sudden and so sweet,
Her face it bloomed like a sweet flower
And stole my heart away complete.
My face turned pale as deadly pale.
My legs refused to walk away,
And when she looked, what could I ail?
My life and all seemed turned to clay.

And then my blood rushed to my face
And took my eyesight quite away,
The trees and bushes round the place
Seemed midnight at noonday.
I could not see a single thing,
Words from my eyes did start –
They spoke as chords do from the string,
And blood burnt round my heart.

Are flowers the winter’s choice?
Is love’s bed always snow?
She seemed to hear my silent voice,
Not love’s appeals to know.
I never saw so sweet a face
As that I stood before.
My heart has left its dwelling-place
And can return no more

Tuesday, 19 May 2015


I have always liked the word palpable and I'm not quite sure I always used it within it's proper context. In the context of this picture however, I'm quite certain it's appropriate.

Monday, 18 May 2015


This very famous Ted Talk, watched almost 2 million times on Ted talks alone, is by Brene Brown. A friend send it over to me a lifetime ago and said: "you've got to watch this". And I did and we talked at great length about the question "am I worth of love and belonging".
For those of you who have not the time to see the whole 20 minutes, Miss Brown starts with investigating shame:

" And it turned out to be shame. And shame is really easily understood as the fear of disconnection: Is there something about me that, if other people know it or see it, that I won't be worthy of connection? The things I can tell you about it: it's universal; we all have it. The only people who don't experience shame have no capacity for human empathy or connection. No one wants to talk about it, and the less you talk about it the more you have it. What underpinned this shame, this "I'm not good enough," -- which we all know that feeling: "I'm not blank enough. I'm not thin enough, rich enough, beautiful enough, smart enough, promoted enough." The thing that underpinned this was excruciating vulnerability, this idea of, in order for connection to happen, we have to allow ourselves to be seen, really seen."
 "if I roughly took the people I interviewed and divided them into people who really have a sense of worthiness -- that's what this comes down to, a sense of worthiness -- they have a strong sense of love and belonging -- and folks who struggle for it, and folks who are always wondering if they're good enough. There was only one variable that separated the people who have a strong sense of love and belonging and the people who really struggle for it. And that was, the people who have a strong sense of love and belonging believe they're worthy of love and belonging. That's it. They believe they're worthy. "
 The talk goes on and explains that people that think they are worthy of love and belonging have the courage to be imperfect:
"The other thing that they had in common was this: They fully embraced vulnerability. They believed that what made them vulnerable made them beautiful. They didn't talk about vulnerability being comfortable, nor did they really talk about it being excruciating -- as I had heard it earlier in the shame interviewing. They just talked about it being necessary. They talked about the willingness to say, "I love you" first, the willingness to do something where there are no guarantees, the willingness to breathe through waiting for the doctor to call after your mammogram. They're willing to invest in a relationship that may or may not work out. They thought this was fundamental."
 She ends this thought provoking talk with what would be the result of vulnerability:
"to let ourselves be seen, deeply seen, vulnerably seen; to love with our whole hearts, even though there's no guarantee -- and that's really hard, and I can tell you as a parent, that's excruciatingly difficult -- to practice gratitude and joy in those moments of terror, when we're wondering, "Can I love you this much? Can I believe in this this passionately? Can I be this fierce about this?" just to be able to stop and, instead of catastrophizing what might happen, to say, "I'm just so grateful, because to feel this vulnerable means I'm alive." And the last, which I think is probably the most important, is to believe that we're enough. Because when we work from a place, I believe, that says, "I'm enough," then we stop screaming and start listening, we're kinder and gentler to the people around us, and we're kinder and gentler to ourselves."

I had to think about this talk today following Cat's post of yesterday. And today again I answered the question: Am I worthy of love and belonging? 

Do you have that sense of worthiness? Deep down inside? 

Don't answer. But the answer is important. It didn't change my life, it didn't change my life like "there was life before Brene Browns speech and after", but it did make me think and rethink about my vulnerability.

Sunday, 17 May 2015

No strings attached

You don't need rope to tie the hands that are already fold,
You don't need to secure something that is already bound,
You don't need to concrete the essence of that is genuinely joined.
Han van Meegeren (2014)

Saturday, 16 May 2015

We go to Postel Abby!

 De Efteling

In the Netherlands we have our own Disney Theme Park: De Efteling. It started out in 1952 as a fairytale forest. In the years that followed, the park grew into what is now known as the World of Wonders, where fairy tales are brought to life in spectacular theme park attractions. With 4 million visitors each year, Efteling is the most popular tourist attraction in the Netherlands and one of the leading theme parks in Europe. My daughter always insisted on going to the Madhouse: Villa Volta.

Villa Volta

Villa Volta's story begins in mid-18th century Netherlands, and is a slight extension on the myth of 'De Bokkenrijders'. The story goes like this:

Around this time a wave of terror and destruction swept across the Brambantse Kempen and The Limburg Flatlands. The perpetrators of theses crimes where a band of thieves known as De Bokkenrijders (The Goatriders) who according to a middle ages myth, made a pact with the devil to sweep through the night sky riding on goats, setting fires, breaking into homes and spreading misery and anger in their path. The leader of this gang of brigands was Hugo van den Loonsche Duinen, a cruel, merciless and greedy man.
Hugo van der Loonsche-Duinen
One day De bokkenrijders where passing through Belgium looking for homes to pillage when they came across The Abbey of Postel. Although every candle in the abbey was at its brightest, there were no signs of life coming out of the chapel, so De bokkenrijders decided to gut the abbey of all its treasures. Halfway through the pillaging Hugo felt a slim hand on his shoulder, he turned and saw a beautiful young woman surrounded by a brilliant light. She spoke: 'You, Hugo van den Loonsche Duinen, you desecrate this house, so repent, don't call the lords fury upon yourself'. Her words didn't impress the men, who left with all their stolen treasures in tow as she disappeared into nothingness.
However, when Hugo arrived at his home, the Villa Volta, the Lady of the Abbey was there, on the roof, her arms swaying in the wind. Again she spoke, her words echoing in Hugo's mind: 'Nowhere in your own home, nor anywhere in this world will you find peace and rest, now that you have violated the house of god... only when a noble human with the clear consience of a newborn child enters your home will you find peace, in your home and in your heart'.
Over 250 years later the curse still hasn't been broken, and it seems Hugos house will be blighted for all eternity...

The attraction

 The mainshow is Hugo van den Loonsche Duinens lining room, where his curse manifests itself. Its walls hold Hugo's various (probably stolen) possessions, including a goat's-head trophy, a suit of armour, a cupboard full of kitchenware and several pieces of art. The room also has 3 windows and a patio door, which light up with 'lightning' near the end

of the show, a fireplace with a mirror above and several animatronic sculpted candle holders on the wall. The walls are coated in a peach victorian style wallpaper. The ceiling is white with crenellation moldings and several lights with sculpted shades which brighten and darken (for effect) during the show. The swing isn't as richly decorated as the rest of the room, with only 3 stand-up lamps and a wooden fence in the centre, the benches are wooden and adorned in the centre with a small metal plaque depicting a goat's face and, on the swing supports, 2 mirrors which lean to show the level 'zero point'. The floor under the swing is black-and-white tiled in the centre, and parquet on the sides. There are 2 oblongs the same pattern as the rest of the floor in the centre but made of a material similar to two-way mirrors, which allow light to show through. The show lasts approximately 3 minutes.

Postel Abbey

This year driving aimlessly trough the Belgian landscape when I saw the sign "Postel". And this shows how many time my daughter wanted to go to villa Volta because immediately the sentence "de abdij van Postel, wisten wij", a sentence in the story of Hugo of the Loonsche Duinen came into mind.
So I couldn't resist to go to Postel Abbey. It is still an abby with Norbertijnen monks living there. Postel Abbey is a Premonstratensian abbey in the Belgian municipality of Mol in the province of Antwerp.
This is the church of the Postel Abby Hugo robbed so long ago:

Postel Abby Church
The beer of the Abby is famous, but not brewed there anymore. The tourist industry around it is immense. The herb garden is quite impressive and still maintained by the monks themselves.
Strange how the mind works... From Villa Volta to an Belgian Abby... Just because my daughter loved the madhouse.

Friday, 15 May 2015

Real Neat Blog Award

Both DelFonte and Blonde have asked me some questions a while ago. I have not forgotten. Here are my answers.


DelFonte's questions:

1) If there was space left in your wardrobe, where would you love to go shopping?
I'd love to avoid to go shopping... There is plenty of space in my closet, once the girls put their stuff in their own wardrobe... Ah, well. Do me a favour. Buy something, say: Do you like it?, if I grunt that means yes.

2) Which side of the road do you drive on and have you ever driven on the "wrong" side (ie gone abroad and driven). If you haven't, would you cope?
I'm not much of a traveller, DF. The places I've been to would make you laugh. So, no I have never driven on the wrong side of the road. Well, that is not completly true I did drive through dense fog once and I got out of the car to find out I was at the wrong side of the road...

3) If ability was no hindrance, which language in the world (past or present) would you like to learn and why?
I have discovered a free Ipad app (DuoLingo)  I began to learn German and Swedish. I have basic skills in German, and no skills in Swedish. Why, you say? Well to keep the mind busy. If you do no keep it busy it will go to sleep. And I want it awake!

4) If you could go to any art gallery or museum in the world, which paintings would you picked to put up in your house? No more than three, don't be greedy!

I did tell you I have visited "Late Rembrandt" didn't I? And there was one painting there and I stopped. People bumped into me, because it was as busy as to see the Mona Lisa, but it hit me like a punch in the stomach. I have never ever seen anything like this before. I knew the painting from pictures of course, but it doesn't prepare you when you see the real thing. 

The painting is called "The Conspiracy of Claudius Civilis" The painting is about an episode from the Batavian rebellion (69–70 AD), led by the one-eyed chieftain Claudius Civilis in which he "collected at one of the sacred groves, ostensibly for a banquet, the chiefs of the nation and the boldest spirits of the lower class", convinced them to join his rebellion, and then "bound the whole assembly with barbarous rites and strange forms of oath".

So when the new City Hall was built the council wanted a picture above the arches in the hallway that would reflect on the great big good old days of the Batavian rebellion against the Romans. So Rembrandt made his big picture ever (5,5 meters wide the Night watch is not as big)  and hung it in place. After several days the council decided they didn't like it. It was not as glorious victory picture like they thought it would be. And the probably didn't pay and Rembrandt was there, bankrupt already, with a painting he couldn't sell because nobody wanted it because it was so big. At last he cut out a piece of the painting and that was the piece that was at the exhibition, and later on home in Stockholm. If you ever are in Stockholm I will never forgive you if you don't go and see.

Anyway, I was walking there and suddenly at the end of this big room it was, on one grey wall in the Rijksmuseum: WHAM. What is so special about this painting is the light. I was not prepared for the light. It looks like the sun is shining from below, or a thousand candles lit from below (you were supposed to look at the painting from below remember) and this glorious light shines to the faces of the warriors making their bloody oath.

I realize you don't get the feeling from this picture. I didn't either. It is something you have to see. And I am so glad I have seen it!

5) If you were told to go door to door to sell kink/TTWD to a vanilla stranger, what would be the one thing you think is the most important to convey. 

Jehovah witness for D/s huh? Besides the point I wouldn't do that because everyone should find out what their own sexual preferences are, beside that, I would want to say it is the ultimate display of love. How many people in vanilla life would say I love my spouse (from either gender) so much, so unconditionally much, I trust him to make me immobile and I trust him to hurt me. And I trust he will stop before I have had too much. I give him the power to do whatever he wants to me, and I trust him that he will read my feelings and know, maybe even better than I can, what my limits are. I trust him to give me so much pleasure I will not experience in any kind of other lovemaking than this.

D/s is the ultimate display of love and trust. Look around you. How many marriages do you know that have that bond of love and trust?

6) Sex in a shower, hot tub or outdoor pool - any preferences?
That is easy. In the shower of course. I like my intimacy in an intimate surroundings. Besides sex in the shower is almost always afterplay and I can honour the gift Wanita gave to me by touching her all over her body, say "thank you" by cleaning, luscious rich soap and gentle warm water. 

7) What is the most romantic thing your partner has ever done for you?
Well to be honest I'm the romantic of the two of us. My Wanita is very down to earth, which is good, because she gets me off my cloud sometimes. There are some moving things of course, but if you don't mind I will keep them close to my heart.

Blondies Questions:

1. How many blog friends have you texted, spoken to on the phone, and/or met in person?
Two. I have some wonderful friends, but two I have spoken to in person.

2. Three bloggers that have relationships most similar to your own

None. I think each relation is unique, because each person is his or her unique human being with his or hers own strong and weak points, just like me. And that is good. We don't want what anyone else has, we want our own. We don't look upon people in envy because they have a wonderful marriage, of a beautiful wife, or a man that makes a lot of money. We admire people for the qualities they have. And I look to my own faults first before looking at someone else's faults.

3. How often do your blog - write posts and/or read posts

Well if you have a busy life like I have it is juggling with some balls trying to prevent they fall on the floor. Sometimes suddenly a ball is added, one too many so your hands get tired to keep them all in the air. And suddenly one or two drop. I don't worry about that too much. You cannot do everything, and do the things you do well and with all your heart. 

I think it is important to notice there is a ball on the ground (or more) and it's not the same ball that was there before. If it is, I pick it up and drop another on purpose. It's not good to neglect the balls on the floor for too long...

4, Do you have more than one blog 
Yes I have. I have made a vanilla blog recently. One I can show to relatives and friends that are not aware of the sexual nature of my marriage and I don't want them to know. I only made it recently after Blogger started to get nasty with the pictures. (I'm convinced we have not seen the last of that yet). So I started out with a Wordpress blog. And it turned out to be just like I thought it would: I have spent more time on Wordpress than on the content of my blog. That is the reason why I'm still here at Blogger: I can concentrate on the content and not on all things around it.

5. What would make you stop blogging?

A number of reasons, I guess. The first is of course something happens in my life that makes me drop all balls but one or two. 
The second would be if the mere presence of my being in Blogland would hurt another blogger. If my name would give someone else a bad feeling, I would either go to another corner of Blogland or stop.
The third if my Wanita would object to me blogging with good reasons.

6. Are there any anonymous commenters that you liked so much that you wish they would blog

I think it is wonderful if people read your blog on a regular basis. It is a kind of invisible bond you know? And if people choose not to comment it's their choice, only to be respected. You know, I'm glad they read my blog (there are not that many of course LOL). But it is truly wonderful when they comment. I love comments. I try to give to each comment time and care and a serious answer. Because the one that comments deserves as much time from me as he or she did taking the time to comment.

7. Does your spouse read your blog and/or participate with your blog?

LOL. No, my Wanita has no interest in my blog (or computers as a whole) at all. I sometimes show her a blog post and she looks over my shoulder and as I translate it into Dutch (she doesn't speak English well), she pats on my shoulder says "That's great" and goes on minding her business. LOL. I always thought that was odd, until I read from several bloggers they have the same experience...

I am sorry both of you girls had to wait so long for my answers. I'm really honoured by your invitation and you have made such interesting questions. I hope you like my answers.


Yesterday I found this in my mailbox, a surprise I wasn't ready to receive. I just wanted to share it with you. It is called Fable by Nicole Callihan.
It's the first poem I read from her and I like: "and though mother wasn’t like other mothers, I was like other girls trapped and lonely and painting pictures in the stars."  I'm curious if you like it as well.

Our paper house sat
on the banks of the red river

and though mother
wasn’t like other mothers

I was like other girls
trapped and lonely

and painting pictures
in the stars. I was slick

with old birth or early longing,
already halfway between

who I wanted to be and who I was.
Our floors were made of flame

but there was no wind
so we were as safe as anyone.

When spring came,
I walked for a very long time

up I-35, and at the end of the road,
I found a boy who placed earphones

onto my head and pumped opera
into my body. I can feel it still.

Underneath that treeless sky,
I was as changed as I would ever be.

Not even mother noticed.
Nicole Callihan

Thursday, 14 May 2015

For those who believe in coincidence, and those who don't

Gallows Hill

In 1911 three men were hanged in London for the murder of Sir. Edmund Berry. The gallows were on Green Berry Hill, the three hanged men were called Green, Berry and Hill.

Lethal taxi 

Two brothers on the Bermuda Islands were slain by the same taxi with the same driver and the same passenger driving the same moped through the streets  - but with one difference, there was one year difference between each accident.
Erskine Lawrence Ebbin Neville and his brother were both coincidentally 17 years old.


In 1932 booze smuggler "Dutch" Schultz commissioned a murder the 23-year-old Vincent "Mad Dog" Coll, who was assassinated on 23rd Street in New York. Schultz himself was on October 23, 1935, and his killer Charlie Workman had 23 been in jail when he was paroled.

Wild  Goose

In November 1974 the family of Noel McCabe was listening to an album of Frankie Lane. Lane just sang "Wild Goose" as a wild goose flew through a window in the room.

Falling babies

In the spring of 1975 in Detroit a baby fell from the 14th floor of an apartment atop Figlock Joseph, who just passed. A year later the same thing happened. Both John and the two babies lived to tell it.

Wednesday, 13 May 2015

First part of Rope tutorial

Now this is the first of a three part Rope tutorial. It is one of the best of the rope tutorials I have seen. That is remarkable because I don't understand a word he says. It's all Spanish to me. Most riggers tend to go to fast with their explanation, but this man takes it's time, and that makes his ties so wonderful.

I hope you will learn from it as much as I did. Part 2 and 3 will follow shortly.

Tuesday, 12 May 2015

Nurses Day

In America they celebrate "National Nurses Week" from May 6-12. In Canada they celebrate "National Nursing Week" from May 11-17.
In the Netherlands we celebrate "the day of Nursing" on the birthday of Florence Nightingale on May 12th. One day to honour our nurses.

In Holland today on May 12th our "Dag van de Verpleging". All nurses will get some small token and a thank-you letter from the organisation you work for. So, thank you all nurses where ever you are all over the world for the wonderful work that you do. Let me honour you with this little card:

Monday, 11 May 2015

A couple of thousand words about tenderness

Maybe the world needs a just a little more tenderness.

There is no charm equal to tenderness of heart.
Jane Austen

Sunday, 10 May 2015

All mothers, Happy mothers Day!

Lots of flowers and well meant breakfasts in bed!
Have a wonderful day, mothers!

And when the kids are tired in bed, exhausted of  pleasing their mom, one more little story:

Saturday, 9 May 2015


How can you explain intense to people that were not feeling what you felt, who have not seen what you have seen? Sometimes you can explain in it music or a painting or a photo, and sometimes you will just have to do with words.
This is what I found on and it was so intense I just had to share it with you. The post is from an anonymus writer, but the text is very personal:

Don’t be afraid to hurt me. I know you worry. Please don’t. I’m not as fragile as you think.

Don’t tug my hair. Grab it. Force me to my knees with your hands in my hair wrapped in a fist. Pull hard. Make my eyes water.
Don’t graze your teeth along my skin. Devour me. Bite down until I cry out. Then do it again.
Don’t caress my throat. I want to feel your fingers wrap tightly around it. Feel my pulse hammer into your palm. Feel the breath short in my chest and that little bit of panic set in.
Don’t nudge my knees apart. Move them like they’re yours to spread. With intention. With possession.
Don’t hold my hands. I want to feel your strong grip around my wrists. Use all your weight. Make me lie still.
I want it to still hurt tomorrow.
I want to see the bruises. The welts. The hand prints.
Don’t ask me if I’m OK. Tell me I am. 
I need to let go and not think. 
I need you to make me yours.
Let my body answer for me with each shudder and moan. With the pool of wetness between my thighs.
These are the things I can’t control. I don’t want to control. That’s the point.
Don’t doubt.

Don’t worry.

Don’t overthink.
Just fuck me. 

The pictures is just as intense as the words. The eyes closed, the look on her face, the cheek against his thigh, it is all so intense. 

Intense is not the name of a perfume. It is what we have.

Wednesday, 6 May 2015


I had never seen it before. I must be old...
It is a selfie stick. Made to make a selfie. Now I do not get the urge to make a selfie very often, but I am in the minority of people, otherwise these things would not sell like crazy....

Now everyone is very much allowed to look at him or herself and make a picture. I would never risk my 300 euro smartphone on a 4,95 euro stick, but hey... I you want to take the chance, be my guest..

The Rembrandt exhibition "the Late Rembrandt", made my think of my Gravatar. It is in the Rijksmuseum (not on the exhibition, but somewhere in that huge building), but I couldn't find it.

The Rijksmuseum says about it:

"Self-portrait of Rembrandt, Etching at a Window, Rembrandt Harmensz. van Rijn, 1648
etching, h 160mm × w 130mm.
Rembrandt is hard at work. His concentration is evident as he studies his reflection in the mirror. The artist is drawing what he sees directly onto the copperplate, resting under his hand on a folded cloth. While in earlier self-portraits he dressed up in eccentric costumes, here he portrays himself in a simple hat and jacket, the clothes he normally worked in".

I like that. It is a selfie that not hides behind fancy costumes, but displays the man just like he was. I choose it a year ago, and this is what Han van Meegeren looks like: a common man, with a hat, concentrating on his work. Near the window, just like I'm now.

Monday, 4 May 2015

Remembrance Day

 4 May Remembrance Day

Remembrance of the Dead (Dutch: Dodenherdenking) is held annually on May 4th in the Netherlands. It commemorates all civilians and members of the armed forces of the Kingdom of the Netherlands who have died in wars or peacekeeping missions since the outbreak of World War II.

Until 1961, the commemoration only related to the Dutch victims of World War II. Since 1961, the victims of other military conflicts (such as the Indonesian National Revolution in Indonesia) and peacekeeping missions (such as in Lebanon or Bosnia) are remembered on May 4 as well.
At 20:00, two minutes of silence are observed throughout the Netherlands. Public transport is stopped, as well as all other traffic. Radio and TV only broadcast the ceremonies from 19.00 until 20.30. Since May 4, 1994, the flags, having hung at half-staff from 18:00 onwards, are then hoisted to the music of the "Wilhelmus", the Dutch national anthem. Since 2001 the new protocol says it is allowed to let the flag hang half-staff.


There are hundreds, maybe thousands memorial places in the Netherlands, and each city has it's own. Last year I wrote about Stolpersteine, little stones in the pavement you might stumble upon, with the names of the victims of WW II who lived in that street, in that house. This year my attention was caught by a little memorial just beneath a railway crossing just before you enter Delft.

I pass this crossing biking on my way to work (just before the train goes under ground-level in Delft). And there is a little memorial stone 20 meters away from it I think. A simple concrete low wall with memorial wreaths each year on May 4th on 18:30 hours. The flagpole on the right is to raise the our red-white and blue flag. The picture on the left a flattering image of the memorial it really is nothing but a memorial plate 
four hooks in it, painted white. The hooks are for the memorial wreaths
"for the fallen ones, and the names of 10 people that died". I was curious about this little almost invisible memorial. 
The story behind it is this: 10 young men from the resistance, the youngest 22 years, the oldest 54 years old were executed at the railway crossing that you saw above. The resistance group was betrayed and brought to the "Oranjehotel" in Scheveningen.

Another resistance group blew up the railway tracks at that very place we are talking about on the night of 6 to 7 October 1944. The Sicherheitdienst knew how to deal with this act of sabotage. They took ten random men they just had arrested and had nothing to do at all with this act of sabotage, put them at the railway crossing and killed them all. People who passed by were forced to watch...

Trains were soon riding again in October 1944. But these men didn't see them anymore:

  • Frans Britzel
  • Pieter Bogaard
  • Roland Colberdinge
  • Christiaan van ’t Hoff
  • Roelof Koopmans
  • Hermanus Schram
  • Hendrik en Pieter Stavast
  • Klaas de Vries
  • Jacobus de Waal
For years the monument was in decay. Now it has been restored and it pleased me so much there were two baskets of plants there yesterday.

Tomorrow, on May 5th, Dutch people celebrate freedom, the liberation of the nation from the German occupation of 1940 to 1945.

Sunday, 3 May 2015

Result Quattuordecim challenge number 11

You might have missed the Q-post yesterday..
You didn't miss it. Wanita gave up the challenge yesterday.

Saturday, 2 May 2015

Joseph Apoux

There is not much left of Joseph Apoux (1846 - ?), at least I couldn't find it. He was a French painter and illustrator in the late eighteen hundreds and an example of the Decadent movement. He made erotic, today we would say pornographic, drawings. From 1880 he took part in the internal exhibition "Blanc et Noir" in 1886 and had exhibitions in the Paris salons. His most famous work of art is “Alphabet pornographique” published by Joly in Paris. 
We have no knowledge of what has happened to Joseph Apoux after 1910...

There have been many alphabets that are naughty...

Alphabet by Bracelli
Cindigirl erotic alphabet A

Or may you like this one better?

G. Franco

Or this one by Giacomo Franco? I like those of Joseph Apoux the most. They are naughty at several levels. I hope you will like this one from Apoux, it is called very appropriate to my theme "Femina".

Femina by Joseph Apoux

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