EverMus

Mijn huid
Voelt als de bladzijden
Van een boek
Net als het geluid ervan

Hoe vaker je door het boek
Bladert hoe meer je het
Leert kennen
Snuffelen gaat ook

Dat lesje heb je wel geleerd
Er waren ooit problemen
Nu liggen er voornamelijk kansen
Wat gaat er dan verkeerd?

Denk je nu nog steeds
Het mysterie te ontrafelen
Hoe een koe is
Onder de hoge elzen?

Got you! Mus

Aha, jaja. Even in het Nederlands om dit feestje te vieren.

Vogels, ja, maar wat weet ik er eigenlijk van. Jacob Cats heeft een prachtig gedicht over Vinken geschreven. Daar ga ik het hier nu niet over hebben, te dichterlijk. Er bestaat namelijk het boek 'Vogels van Groningen', waar bibliotheken en biologenvrienden niet al goed voor zijn. Uitgegeven in 1983 door de vereniging Avifauna Groningen ( bestond die al tussen 1800-1810 of 1900-1910?, voor later zorg), onder redactie van E.J. Boekema, P.Glas en J.B. Hulscher. Op blz.12 schrijven zij, of een van hen, ' In 1828 werd door de Commissie van Onderwijs in de provincie Groningen een vragenlijst voorgelegd aan schoolmeesters in alle gemeenten. Een van de vragen betrof het voorkomen van planten en dieren in hun omgeving. De schoolmeesters gingen aan het werk en noteerden hun waarnemingen in rapporten. De zogenaamde Schoolmeesterrapporten, nu in het bezit van rijksarchief te Groningen'. City of Groningen.
Work to do! Voor mijn PhD bedoel ik, want het vogelboek wijdt natuurlijk verder uit over vogels. De schat aan informatie over de planten ligt al bijna tweehonderd jaar op mij te wachten. Right under my nose! Plant- denken, here I come! Nu ben ik echt aan vakantie toe, ik ga lekker wandelen vandaag.

Opmerkelijk: het werk wat de schoolmeesters deden, wellicht samen met de leerlingen?, wordt nu gedaan door plantenecologen, ook die met een phd titel. Zie het nieuwste boek over de Drentse Aa, dat net uit is, o.l.v. prof. dr. T. Spek.  De onderwijs industrie! Meegelift met de goederen en bouw industrie?

Wel leuke namen voor de vogels hebben ze bedacht, die biologen: jaarvogel, zomervogel, jaargast, wintergast, zomergast, doortrekker, onregelmatige broedvogel, toevallige broedvogel, voormalige broedvogel, onregelmatige gast, dwaalgast.Wat een pluimage! Ik kan hier wel wat mee.
Zou ook zomaar in het culturele media veld gebruikt kunnen worden, als amusement. Was het programma Zomergasten in 1983 al op de NederlandscTV?
Dan ben ik weer terug bij af met Mus, mannelijk voor Muse, of beter nu, genderloos voor Muse, dat past beter bij mij. Geen biologisch onderscheid. En die gast vogels, zou zo maar met de huidige gastvrijheid van Groningen te maken kunnen hebben. En daarmee bedoel ik dat zowel mannen als vrouwen hun gasten fêteren. Dit is in Italië nog heel erg not done, in the city of Groningen normaal. Of is het iets van mijn peergroup? Ga ik over nadenken.

AhaMus

Now I know
You sang it all the time
While I was feeding you
Crums du pain

Now I see
Meaning understand
What I am
Something with feathers and a voice

Now I want
A crystal nest
For my order
Yet to come

Now I shine
For the eyes
Of the ones
Who really dare to look

ModelMus

I looked at you. You looked at me. I smiled at you. You smiled at me. And we are on our way. There is no turn back.

It happens everytime
With other variations
You might think Bach invented this
There is another truth
Only the end is my friend.

finneyVink

I spotted you, your head, in some paper
A black and white photograph
Taken from your front
I distinguished eyes, nose, mouth, hair
Perfect complete impression, no ears

The story goes you are an expert
Laureated as a doctorate from overseas
I have been over this water many times
I have been laureated over and over
Not yet was I seen as they name you

While I am drinking red Berry's out of my garden
I am thinking about my life
Fifty years I have been looking for a fire
A thing you know more and less about
Now I have the space to counter, to complete

It is about my fire now
Fifty more years to come
So I councelled you
Give me some words I can play with
Vortex, ground, cardboard squares, risk control

In a short while there is
The opportunity to hear you speak
On the other side of the world
I really hope I find something earlier
Like you, a tube from wood, wise smiling

Mus, Gerrit en poëzie

Waarom het woord Mus?
Er zit veel meer achter, er hangt veel meer aan, dan ik ooit kon vermoeden.

Vogels, vogala, komen voor in de tot nu toe eerst gevonden poëzie regels in Nederland, geschreven in het Latijn. Ik heb het over de eerste vijfentwintig jaar van de twaalfde eeuw.

Hoe kom ik aan deze kennis?
Well, ik was op zoek naar iets meer over plant-denken, er stond een artikel in een Nederlandse krant over Gerrit Komrij, ik heb het uitgeknipt, ik dacht, in welk boek van Komrij zal ik het uitgeknipte artikel bewaren (mijn onfeilbare archiefsysteem, associatief, but okay). Het eerste boek van Komrij die ik in mijn boekenkast zag staan, was het boek met de titel 'In liefde bloeyende. De Nederlandse poëzie van de twaalfde tot en met de twintigste eeuw in 100 en enige gedichten'. Voor de volledigheid: eerste druk januari 1998, zesde druk november 1998. Omslagontwerp Tessa van der Waals. Ik heb een paperback versie, overwegend donkere groene omslag, beschaafd glanzend, witte en goudkleurige letters, afbeelding van een tulp in gesloten toestand, steel wit, knop overwegend groen kleurig. Wit en groen zijn volgens 'kenners' de kleuren van de poëzie, ooit. Ook bekend bij architecten, by the way. Ik heb dit boek, toen, net voor alle millennium feestelijkheden en computerstress van deze en gene, gelezen.

Wat ik nu ga doen is schaamteloos bijna de hele tekst die Gerrit heeft geschreven op blz.5-7 overtypen. Het is zo goed, het duidt zo perfect wat ik beoog met Mus, ja, en met Mouse en Vink af en toe. Nee, dit is niet helemaal waar. Ik ben Mus gaan schrijven, omdat ik dacht dat ik een trigger nodig had om geschiedenis te schrijven. I just did it. Nike. Het gaat vanzelf, ik hoef er geen enkele moeite voor te doen, het stroomt uit mijn rechter wijsvinger. Ik ben wel bewust begonnen Mus een lijf te geven, a life, a body, a corpus, content, so you can image it, picture it. Not to confuse with imagine it. When you start imagining, then it is your mind 'running'. In a way that is a compliment to me, it means that the same words streaming out my body, streaming in your body, reaches your mind, inspires you. Dode materie leven in te tikken, by touching. My last sense to be sure, safe. Ik denk zelf voornamelijk in ruimte, in ogenschijnlijk niets. Sound sensitivity takes place in space. En mijn ervaring is dat op een aantal 'sporen' tegelijkertijd inzetten, levert vaak, niet altijd, hele goede resultaten op, of tenminste resultaten waar ik heel blij van wordt, zogenaamde vondsten. En waar, uiteindelijk, vaak veel later, de rest van de wereld ook heel blij mee zou kunnen zijn. Ook wel bekend onder de term 'pionieren'. Volgt u mij nog?
Gerrit Komrij gebruikt zelfs het woord drietrapsraket, (1, 2, 3, op naar de maan!) bijna aan het einde, op blz. 7, een ruimte verkennend verhaal dus. Te beginnen met 'olla vogala'.

Hebban olla vogala quid expectamus nunc abent omnes volucres nidos inceptos nisi ego et tu hebban olla vogala nestas hagunnan hinase hic enda thu wat unbidan we nu
anoniem, eerste kwart van de twaalfde eeuw

We hebben het een beetje getroffen, met dat eerste zinnetje uit de Nederlandse literatuur.'Zijn alle vogels aan hun nesten begonnen- behalve ik en jij - waar wachten we nu op?' Het had ook een ander zinnetje kunnen zijn, zomaar een notitie. Het is een lief ding, dat zinnetje. Het heeft iets naïefs en simpels, en tegelijkertijd blijft het in het geheugen hangen, het prent zich gemakkelijk in, als een unieke formulering: men is, al staat er geen enkele genre- aanduiding bij, onmiddellijk bereid het te herkennen als poëzie.
't Is een beetje een dwingeland, de dichter van dat zinnetje. Hij/ zij heeft het over ik en jij en niet hoffelijk over jij en ik. De toon is er een van ongeduld: Wat unbidan we nu? Het klinkt als een salvo na de lange aanloopzin. Waar wachten we nu eigenlijk op? Wat dralen we dan?

 Die sfeer van ongeduld wordt overgedragen op het ontstaan van de Nederlandse poëzie. Want zo zie ik het gedichtje graag, omlijst door de Latijnse regels: als een kuiken dat uit het ei kruipt, uit de schaal van het alomvattende Latijn. De schaal breekt en daar komt het snaveltje van de Nederlandse poëzie naar buiten: fris en nog ietwat schuchter, maar vooral ongeduldig.
 't Is maar een fantasietje van me, want de geleerden zijn het er inmiddels over eens dat het Nederlandse zinnetje er eerst stond en dat het Latijn er daarna bij wijze van toelichting omheen is gekrabbeld.
  Daar gaat mijn eierschaal verhaal.
  Vanzelfsprekend is dit ook niet ons eerste zinnetje, alleen maar het oudste zinnetje dat toevallig bewaard is gebleven en dat ons al even toevallig bewaard is gebleven en dat ons al even toevallig onder ogen is gekomen - daar in 1933 in de Bodleian Library in Oxford op een schutblad van een uit de benedictijnerabdij van Rochester, Kent, afkomstig boek. De Nederlandse literatuurgeschiedenis
begint ermee, tot iemand over enige tijd in een Poolse of Oekraïnse etcetera.
  De literaire historici zijn er een halve eeuw mooi druk mee geweest, met dat zinnetje. Er zijn polemieken over gevoerd en theorieën over ontworpen. Het zinnetje kon en mocht gewoon niet zo simpel zijn als het eruitzag.
  Voor de een was het niet genoeg dat het een spontaan minnedichtje of de herinnering aan een bestaand minnedichtje zou zijn, nee, het had te maken, daar in het verre Engeland, met het heimwee van een Vlaamse monnik naar het Vlaamse moederhuis. Voor de ander was het weer het verlangen naar het nest van de kloosterwarmte dat zich in dit zinnetje een uitweg probeerde te banen.
  Over een mystiek Godsverlangen hadden ze het ook nog kunnen hebben, want 'zelfs vindt de mus een huis, en de zwaluw een nest voor zich, waar zij hare jongen legt, bij uwe altaren, Here der heirscharen, mijn Koning en mijn God', staat er in Psalm 84, vers 4.
  Gelukkig hielden de literatuur historici het over het algemeen bij het minnedichtje zonder meer, wat me gezien het feit dat zoveel vogels (allemaal) het met elkaar doen (nestjes bouwen) wel zo
verstandig lijkt.
  Denk even zoals de monnik denkt. De monnik staat over zijn boek gebogen en probeert de pen: een routineklusje. 't Is voorjaar buiten, want de vogels zijn met hun nest bezig. Ook onze kuise monnik krijgt de voorjaarskriebels. In het hoofd. 't Werkt daar associatief. Zijn heimelijke gedachte staat, nog voordat hij/zij er erg in heeft, op papier. Onbespied en onbewust, zoals dat gaat bij een probatio pennae. De verliefde monnik is dichter geworden.
 Lees het zinnetje zoals het er staat. 't Is een drietrapsraket. Eerst de constatering. Alle vogels zijn bezig. Dan de ontkenning, het gemis. Behalve ik en jij. Als derde de ongeduldige vraag, de bijna existentiële vraag. Waar wachten we nondedju nog op? Nu!
  Die ritmische en emotionele sequentie, gevat in een metafoor ('ik en jij zijn vogels'), maakt dat we dit ontglipte, verdwaalde zinnetje geen niemendalletje mogen noemen - het dwangmatig heldere gedachtebeeld, in een spanningsveld van klanken, maakt het tot lyriek, tot een gedicht.

I have been treasure hunting

What we see before us is a part of the world
Does he mean, what I see before me is a part of my desired world? To imagine?
We can get into a way of thinking, this is the world.
Same again, does he try to say, I can get into a way of thinking, this is my world?
The world doesn't exist. Is that a fact?
The world of Haruki is a dark and deep place
Much of his world is occupied by jellyfish
And things


 Inspired by a text, fantasized by Haruki Murakami, with the title/ name ' Three'.

hetstukMusmoore

So strange to me
So accustomed to you
Include
Exclude
The dancers of Galili said it in
Open circle
2007

Why oh way
Did you stop dancing
Play boss
On the beach
WhT happened
What happened while you were
There

So eager
Funny hungry testing trying
So beautiful
I cry inside for you
For your life
The hours to remain
A trillion I can't count

A square so it starts
Compatible multiplyable
And the the space phase comes in
Like lingers, slierts, throw away art moves
Again and again, again again
Niemand then
It grows it reads, it exists

The children
Why didn't they come
Why did they die
Why do I wear the five diamonds
No one can
Give you these answers
The truth is
One looks exactly like you
When you were seven

You don't believe me
Why should you
You didn't look
Forgot your glasses?
It ran away
The lookalike
Because of the fear
You know so well

The loss
Of control
You never have
Is not the answer
Nor solution
Trust
Trust you, yourself
Because
The beauty
You already

hisMus

Do you want to sleep? Not from fatigue but because of the promise of dreams. Try all kinds of methods. Exhaust yourself. Then gather together to converse endlessly, to tell over and over for hours and hours the same jokes. Complicate to the limits of exasperation stories of the dead. Which is an endless game in which the historian asked if you want to tell your stories about ancestors and ancestress. When you answer yes, the historian would say that you were not asked to say yes, but whether you want it, you said no, the historian will tell you that you were not asked to say no, but whether you want the historian to remain silent, you are going to say nobody asked you to remain silent, but whether you want the historian to write the story of whom had passed, you could leave because the historian never asked you to leave and so on and on in a vicious circle that can go on for ever.
But doesn't need to, of course.

SafetyfirstMus

It is hard
It was hard
It is all soft now,
Melted

What a handicap
To do one thing at the time
Like me
Now I do nothing

And what happens?
Insight, no clouds this time
Just the need
To be safe

What is taking so much time?

Where does that come from
Your core business
Black and white landings
Accompanied by electricity lights

Thanks to you
My dear Musses
I know what to do
And once I will whisper it

I promise you

Musses, muses and history

Once in a while a cross- over thought can be very clarifying.

I introduced some musses, as you could have been reading in previous blogs. Musses, a pluralism for mus, distracted, inspired on the word 'muse'. The mus is also a fine tiny brownish bird, very volatile, which can be spot near houses and restaurants in the Netherlands. The mus, the bird, happens to have a very alightning sound. According to me. And it seems that even biologists find it very hard to distinguish the male from the female.

The ancient Greek, ( not to confuse with ' the ancient regime, with illustrious characters like Josephine, Belle van Zuylen, Napoleon Bonaparte and Benjamin Constant) so goes the story, had nine muses. I found two tableaus on the Internet, theio.com , named ' the nine mousai'. With credits to Aaron Atsma, copyright 2000-2011 for this knowledge. One mosaic is kept in the archeological museum of Cos, Cos, Greece, coded: Z20.2.  The other mosaic is kept in Trier, Germany, found in Neustrasse, coded: Z20. Both tableaux have being typed as mosaic and both are placed in the Time of Imperial Rome. On both mosaics, nine portraits and bustes of male/ female looking persons can be identified. Genderbenders one could be able to name them today.

What is derived from/ interpreted from Z20.2?
Kalliope with scroll
Euterpe with flute
Thalia with comic mask
Kleio with writing block
Melpomene with tragic mask
Terpsikore with a lyre

Erato with a lyre
Ourania with globe ( !)
Polymnia, without attributes

What is derived from/ interpreted on Z20.3?
Thalia with shepherd's crock and comic mask
Terpsikhore and Erato with lyra's
Kalliope and Kleio with scrolls
Ourania with globe
Melpomene, Euterpe and Polymnia without attributes

Interesting, isn't it?

Well, there is more.

In short, Muze, Mus, Muses, Musses, as words, are derived from mousai, ancient Greek. Then, or  later, for instance in classical times ( this is written with a great probability sound), the muses were assigned specific literary and artistic spheres. Kleio, Clio as it is written nowadays, was assigned as the muse of history. As a statue, she can be pictured with mostly female characteristics features. A standing figure, with the leftside hand and arm leaning on a pole and a scroll. The rightside arm and hand, holding horizontally in front of the mid-reef (middenrif). Sometimes, so Aaron wants us, you and me, to believe, Clio was seated besides a chest of books. I have seen no proof of that yet.

And, what did they say, sing, write, declare? These so called muses. They were to amuse, no doubt about that.

Maybe, just very very very maybe, Mrs. De Wit, the historic teacher old languages, gymnasium Schoonoord, 1970-1995, did sent so many sounds in space, my ears incidental caught some words from these sounds, then. Now they come out my pointing finger, right hand.

Well, and I use the word Mus, pretty short, efficient, to counter off course the too much female value given to the word muse. Someone has to balance things, once in a while. The only thing I am not going to do is to give Mus real names, because there are no real names and because that would be too unmystifying. It is about the sound, to amuse, to bring along other thoughts, to counter the dominance of mainstream, copycat, thoughts. Art, duz.

What about Vink? Yeah, what about Vink. I do not have to amuse myself everyday and isn't like the saying goes: change does the eating / verandering van spijs doet eten.

I am so hungry, you don't want to know.

ToorealforaMus

I was in shock
Grounded
Only my eyes couldn't stop working

Yesterday
On the beach
I was sitting south

The wind blowing away
Luke was hiding
Behind me

A dog without fear
Running like bold ones do
Totally unpredictable

You! Sand in my eyes
I didn't care
Big feet in loose sandals

Grey and Greek!

Vinkoptions

Vink pronounced, Fink written. B'cause Vink pronounced sounds so much better.

What does Fink has to do with Mayer. Fink, the mort gage guy. Mayer the writer. Fink, the last nail of your coffin. Mayer and his glass room story. Fink, known from L.A. Mayer not really known, but possibly a bit known from  Europe. Later, now. Fink could be known from N.Y. Later, I mean much, later, Mayer will be known by me citing him. What would you prefer? A big Apple or love? You know, love is in the air. Love is not a body. Both do not exist. Both are to be created. If you are a hard believer, like the other Fink, from Italy, who is coming along Europe pretty soon. Then. Yes, then what?

What are the options?

I have some ideas. Please, do appreciatie them on the level of ideas as well. You could open some thing. You could open a new bankaccount like Fink the First did. And still does all the time. And then call yourself director of board. Meaning, the boss of that same account. You can open up your mind and write another song, like Fink the Second does all the time. He keeps on singing. I listen to him on the internet. Again and again. Imagine you are Fink the Third. Not to confuse him with yourself, of course You understand. Imagine him, what would he do? What would you do?

I am not good in answers. You know. Especially here, I make up the whole world around me. But this time, I think I know the answer. Well, that's my answer. Not yours of course. Since you are some Else, Fink the Third for instance.

CreaVink

How the great dje Theirs rediscovered the obscure historyproducer who once made a text accompagning the legendary music of the first play station game ( Playstationgame, derived from play a game at the station, because waiting is boring here). My son, Sony, who likes to play with trains from Brio and Lego, doesn't know this first play station with the name Ape Escape. So, there is an escape.......the comeback van zero. Nix. Talent rather than hardworking. Vink doesn't know his talent, a talent Jet would had liked to have. Talent is a spiritual fortune. Once Vink will know, maybe in time, maybe too late. It is just a matter of focus. Or of listening. But, to what or whom?
Once a collegue Vink asked me, is Vink any good? I answered, Vink is very good to me. O. He flew away. Flying Vinks and swimming Vinks. Who do you think have the most money? And using 'street' things. Language, off course. How do I know? I just know. I was in the garden, in the house and on the street in the first three years of my life. Although you can learn about things all your life, the first impressions of your  life always play a role. Higher or lower. Today Freddie is no more. Selah Sue is now. SO, what is your talent, Vink, besides making money.

What are you waiting for? Show them!

(Vink, other spelling for Mr.Fink, the one from Black Rock)

BilliondollarVink

Vink, associated wit Mr.Fink, the one from Black Rock

Traces tracing stacey
The urge to make big money
Not the borders of Serbia

The borders of the law
Almost 16 again
Are you becoming eight?

Jajajajayesyesyes
Don't you want to talk
About the things you don't know

Like everybody else
One exception to the rule
No risks no assistance

The stone the stone
Is it green or is it Black
Apollo and the highpriestess

What do they know
About rock the baby
Did they talk about it?

Gast!Mus!

Stuck niemandsland, mein herzhaftschje.
Dicke, exclusiv, salzig schonsten
Bieten reichsgefullt augenblicklich

Siebenmeilenstiefeln eigensinnige paradiesvogel
Ausgedehnt, dynamisch, faszinierend
Einzigartig, langweilig, bizar

Lichtsignalen, dunkelheit, lieblingsort
Ehrenambtliche rettungs schwimmer
Mutter und vater zugleich

Die farbe des meeres is das schonste
Stille, ruhe von wind getragen
Coral ist zu sehen

Meisterliche handwerk
Pure zutaten verhaltnisse
Du bis an spitznamen gewohnt

Das herstellen blick hinter
Wissenwertes kluge grinst
Wieder scharf eine trane

MusvanGoes

Off stream since July?
A red nobelman
Fascinated to go up on the street

It was exactly 1900
When his mom
Gave birth to a naked hairing

The long winter of mankind has come to an end
My friend and I were fascinated
By the role one can play in a party

First we thought of no rules
The world was our oyster
Time on our side

Then the tree of knowledge was written
Some 36 pink things as well
Numbered Nijmegen, van Nimwegen, Anguilla rostrata

Time still faces you not me
Growing so immoderately old
Twenty year spans seems like nothing

Than ten plus ten makes
It back you can calculate
More than in thought terms of months

Ah, a century is a mathematical construct
Isn't it reasonable doubt
Who said this who wrote this?

All these questions all these answers
What do I think of 2000 ?
I remember the fear

The fear of people with money and a computer

NanoMus

Nanananana. Nanaaananana
And again everybody!
Nanaaanaanana. Nanaaabaanana

Na na comes no
No more no less
That explains everything

Why na and no and tech no logy
Are so succesful today
No original thought

No original word
No original logos
Is Ancient Greek

Giving birth
Being original
Hurts really hurts

It takes some
One who is fitted
For pain

The rewarding of giving stays longer
Than the memory of pain
You will know when you are dying

Talking about certainties.......

The Great Story of Greeningen. Scape one.

My name is Sarah Mijnsje Anne Marie Sival van Andel van Groningen. With my right hand pointing finger I touch buttons, buttons with codes on it, letters, figures. My left hand or my lap, that changes now and then, hold the machine in good order, the machine,  a device, known today as an iPad. Not to confuse with a tablet, because a tablet today, anno 2015, is something else. The iPad and the tablet almost look the same and almost work the same. The children are correcting me if a name an iPad a tablet and viceversa. It makes me think, not alarmed. Does it something have to do with the software? Influencing the naming of the hardware? Think about what I have read, what I have seen, whom I have seen, whom I have heard, etcetera. I like doing this. I thought about how I am going to order all the figures, so you are able to look at it, to read it, to get to know it. First things first. You know there is an on-and-out button, do you? And you have fingers and a head. You are in control of. How you read is not up to me. How I am going to write the Great Story of Greeningen, according to my ability to name things,  is filling in or up the idea that each blog I write is a portrait, or maybe better: a scape. Scape? You will learn in time.
The Great City of Greeningen has almost 800.000 citizens. They are not all named Kane. Citizens are people who mainly occupy buildings they like to call Home, as the British are used to say. It is happening today that other people than the citizens of Greeningen are in the Great City of Greeningen. These other people are counted by some governmental organisation and this organisation publishes counted figures on these people now and then. The most contemporary counting shows the figure which looks exactly like this figure: 400.000
I am a citizen most of the dayandnighttime. Once the 24 hours economy understanding was introduced, I dare writing this. It is a fact. It is true. The last 35 months I have been exercising as an historian, training for becoming an historian as you wish or 'struggling in the mud' another person have said. I had the best teacher you can imagine. The last 10 months he even acted as a friend. How good life can be in the Great City of Greeningen. The age of 50 came to me this year. I can name myself Sarah now. My parents didn't have any idea how to name me authentically. They did the same with my elder sister. They didn't do the same with my younger brother. My parents are still quite succesful, as grandparents, they are able to embrace seven grandchildren. How should they have had a clue about which child was to become extremely creative, extremely intelligent and extremely sensitive. And so tall! We are talking 1960s now. At that time I lived in the Great City of Utrecht for a period of three years. The first three memorable years of my life. The beginning of a life which has not ended, yet.

The Great Story of Greeningen Let's start with poetry

On a frisk October morning
Coming from the East
One can experience the glittering of crystal golden meth in ones eyes

This is only a foreplay
Proceed further with the speed of a cyclist
And one will be rewarded

In the heart of the city
By the sight of the Golden Office
A market space, accessible to everybody

Lies designed and made
For you
A person with the pace of a human

Cicaden, ten times a church clock like a drum bell
Boys on the street
Neighbour girl in bed, Windows checked by mom

Anne Meike is over ten
Twelve years ago when I started living right here
I hadn't seen nothing of her yet

Thin, blond, creative, darling and daring
And she already cooky
Something I don't do

Are you coming?

And once you have been here
The wind. The wind moves by cars and sounds of tires on tarmac
Wintersport

Night, father driving, mother, sister, brother sleeping
Me, looking through the front window
Feeling no sleep

It is the rythm of the night
And endless black lava road
An airstream going south

To the white powder
To Austria or Switzerland, to poetry, beauty, oblivion
To crystal white blinding

SO, Alexander Slobbe, are you
Home, or what!
Or is there something you need from Gert?




Sarah Mijnsje Anne Marie Sival van Andel van Groningen
7 th July 2015, early morning

Mus on sundaynight

What do I hear?
I look through the only window
Of my room, my library
I see a thousand pointing roofs
One time up two times down

Where does it comes from
I open the window wide open
To the inside
Contemporary building regulations
I hear, I hear a beat, a beat, a beat, beat beat

A black cat with white fur
Legs and tummy. She!
It is her, the Lolita of
The lane. Facing her computer
Hair already up. What a shame.

Becoming a leader, no doubt.
Tigermom, watching, down stairs, some
Other screen
The sound of a steamed vacuüm cleaner
My hair on my forehead moves a little

It is becoming a bit curly
Have only been swimming twice
Tan us, howling wolf
Hungry dog
Supper has been served hours ago.

Mus o dear

Stephen, from the RAW sharks
You remember the demon
Learned it is necessary to be calm

He wrote it down
He took that effort
You write and you whisper

Is it such a surprise
That it calms
This whispering into the good direction

As a sound sensitive person
I do sound tests all the time
It calms me

Other people name it
Phoning, calming, ringing
I call it contact

Is it so shocking
To hear a delighted voice
Because of a calming voice

Funny how beautiful things
Happen outside
Carried by wind and water

The most intelligent, intellectual
Thing to do
Mind matching

It is so rare
To be calmed
By the opposite sex

I am patiënt
I am here
As long as it takes

MindtheMus

Today Gabriel brought me flowers and sun. When sundaymorning will be over you start listening to music from far away in time, hitting midges to death and try to hit the cockroaches in your ears which  delay you to think, you are looking at the sun going down, the lighttower, shining through the curtains every thirty seconds, transforming you in a green tiger, the natural breath of daily life, returning the way it was, like always, changing your death into the death of all the others from the past, the continuous stream of reality, slowly carrying you to the nomansland of pity and oblivion, TO HELL WITH DEATH you scream once in a while, leaving your hide out, shocked by the security for the last hour, as a ghost on big feet, shuffling through the large empty spaces outside, the remains of a former life, shimmering and smelling to dying flowers and candles with the purpose to enlighten a funeral. Everybody was so in greed, looking in the depth of heritage, nobody minded the presence of you, the inburied Mus.
Goodnight Mus, sleep well compagnon, lying with your stomach on the mosses of stones as old as you, you will bent your right arm under your head, for sleep is not far away, lonelier than ever, yellow, red and brown leaves caressing you good night, into to Indian summer, started last night for ever.

cooleMus=keizer

Zo schattig spreekt Meisjesauto
Nee, ik ben cool
Antwoord Jongensvehikel
uit: Helden van de stad
In deze heerlijke zomer
Iets geplukt van Intenet
Voor kinderen, natuurlijk

Its the rythm of the night......

MUSni

Twohundred times the Mont Ventoux

Chain on chain off

Cause: too loose

There we go again

Save the queen

Let's roll

It's summertime

Forever

I promise you