Another holiday raped.

I was watching Sinterklaas on the tv the other day, and what I saw made me really really sad. I saw Sinterklaas, dressed as usual, and frollicking about were his helpers, the "Pieten". For as long as this tradition exists these characters are black, from all the charcoal dust when climbing down the chimneys. But not this time. I looked again, and checked the bag of chips I was eating, to see if I had accidentely taken the LSD flavour. I watched the screen again but it was still there! MULTI COLOURED HENCHMEN! A green one! A orange one! A pink one! WHAT THE DEVIL!? Here comes the head of the helpers to Sinterklaas, let's see what the old man has to say for himself. His explanation: We sailed through the rainbow. WHAT IS UP WITH THAT!? Why does our government, this left winged country, rape and murder a beautifull tradition like that, which has absolutely nothing to do with rascism!? Just because a few bored out, coked up antillian people complained about it! WHY!?

I am sad.

meh.

What have you done to the game 
Was it a victory, a shame
Where have you gone,
Before morning dew
The game will not end
Without you

The electional disaster.

Why oh why, does this country choose people as their leaders, that think beeing social is supporting the people that are to lazy to do a job. Why do they support partys that want to make it less hard for frauds to live of welfare money. Why do they support politicians that continue to give rapists and murderers, appointed for service to the state - for which they don't even have to do any work!!!- the freedom to escape time and time again. I don't get it anymore, does your daughter have to get raped and murdered first before you people get it!? These monsters deserve nothing better then heavy physical labour, to repay their debt to soceity, t'ill the last breath excapes their bodys, which is the least they can do. Because nothing will get the victims dignity back, or his/her life. I'm devastated.

Ignorance is bliss

Sometimes, I think it would just rock to be dumb. Intelligent people, and I arrogantly proclaim myself one, think they have all the angles figured. But there's allways that gnawing incertainty, the fact that you will never know for sure. And Then I start to wonder, how great life would be, not doubting everything. Just blindly going to church every sunday, never questioning the existence of god, or the creation of the universe. Honestly believing beeing gay is a sickness, and spending your life in never changing schedules of going to your underpaid job during the day, and drinking beers with your just as racist friends at night, cursing jews and negro's. How that would be the life. But the truth, in my eyes, is that its not great. Because they are blind for the things I see, the things I experience, the things I come up with. Intelligent people have the CHOICE of believing things without doubting them one second. Because every human beeing is capable of accepting things without a doubt. We have the choice to either doubt it all, or to choose for the life of certainty. And that is what, in my eyes, makes it worth while working hard to boost your intelligence.

Lyrical content.

System of a Down - Lonely Day.

Such a lonely day
And it's mine
The most loneliest day of my life

Such a lonely day
Should be banned
It's a day that I can't stand

The most loneliest day of my life
The most loneliest day of my life

Such a lonely day
Shouldn't exist
It's a day that I'll never miss

Such a lonely day
And it's mine
The most loneliest day of my life

And if you go
I wanna go with you
And if you die
I wanna die with you

Take your hand
And walk away

The most loneliest day of my life
The most loneliest day of my life
The most loneliest day of my life

Such a lonely day
And it's mine
It's a day that I'm glad I survived

Shades of grey.

I’ve been meaning to ask you some questions, because I my faith is crumbling sometimes. I’ve been meaning to ask you this, because I am wandering in the dark world of uncertainty. I don’t always have the answers, though I like to make others believe I do. I’m not all that certain of the choices I make, or the things I say, though I like to make others believe I do. Maybe I’m just as uncertain as you are. I know you can’t really be bothered with my questions, but I sometimes get the feeling you don’t feel it anymore. Though on the other hand I know this feeling is a product of my own weakness. I feel weak. But I’m not! That’s what I tell myself anyway. Oh what the hell.

A peek into my past.

I wrote this poem a year or so ago. It's about me, and my condition. A condition which I made the best out of and got to live with.

"Where do you run"

Where do you run,

Where do you hide,

When the only one in who you trust,

Casts your faith aside.

I deceive myself, delude myself,

Every single time,

If feel a thief of my own thoughts,

A sinner committing a crime.

Why can't I see reality,

Like average people do?

I put a shade on my vision,

A darkness hard to see through.

And so I keep on guessing,

Illusions is all I can see.

Will the curtain ever fall,

Will I ever be free?

Remember to live.

I told a friend about my blog the other day, and he told me he would have a look see. After a while I asked him if he liked it, and he asked me why my pseudonime is Memento Mori. Aparently he thought I had become some sort of emo kid. So I decided to make a post explaining what I mean with Memento Mori. Memento mori is latin for Remember to die. And I think everyone should remember the fact that everyday their lives could come to an end. I'm not saying you should get scared to death, and hide a way in a corner crying, but when you die the world will go on. And things will be as they have allways been. So you shouldnt get to worked up about every small thing, and sometimes you should just let things be. Because it will still be that way when you die. I think this could brighten up a lot of people's future, at least for a bit. And hey, maybe death isn't the end at all for all we know. At least I don't think it is.

Open letter to the ikea guy.

Dear Ikea guy,

I would like to start off by saying how much I enjoy the furniture bought in your company. Really quality stuff. I just love how that chair can go up and down using air! And not to forget the wonderfull computer table, with moving parts! How do you guys come up with that stuff!

But really, is it that hard to pay a tiny bit of attention, when your "helping" me? What, Im not interesting enough for you, is that it!? How hard can it be to remember, then when I buy a bed, I might also need a support bar to keep the matrass in place!? Im not able to sleep on air you know. Now I have come back to your rat infested store, which smells of corpses by the way - probably coming from that childrens "play ground", where a lot of children have gone missing- to get one of those support bars. Thank you there buddy! Must be some kind of selling technique, to get you to come back and buy more. Damn you system!

- Memento mori.

The benefits of not paying your bills.

The dutch railway system, also known as the n.s, is hated by most people in the netherlands ever since it became a private company. It allmost never rides on schedule, and they make you pay large fines. Tho luckily I am a student, so I don't have to pay extremely high prices, when travelling on mondays through fridays. But such a card makes you lazy. So when I drove to my girlfriend on saturday, I forgot to buy a ticket. And ofcourse, this time the ticket inspector came like a fly on rotten fruit to fine me. 45 euro's, for a lousy one way trip. A few days later they send me a letter with the bank account details. I was busy, and forgot all about it untill today, so I called the rail way customer service.

"Hi there, I lost my letter about my outstanding bil, could you give me the bank account so I can send the money?"

"what's your zipcode sir?"
"7213LN"

...

"there is no outstanding bill on this zipcode."

Computer error? devine intervention? Who knows. And who cares, saved me 45 euro.

Poem for a dead girl.

This I wrote for a girl that was run down by a car, february this year. She was only 13, way to young to die..

Yanick. In memoriam.

Unaware of your existence,
Till you were ripped away.
Leaving an undefined emptiness,
And so many in dismay.

In light you shall be cleansed,
Of hatred and of sin.
One day you’ll be back again,
On the edge of a new begin.

Though your suffering had no purpose
You did not die in vain,
In the memories of many,
Your existence will remain.

Your strength comforts your loved ones,
In the hell they’re going through.
Let your soul support them now,
Like they have done for you.

A new home.

I've finally found a room in leiden! Now i am more close to.. to everything actually. Well, allmost everything that is. My family is now far away. It' s a pretty big shock, moving out. How the hell does this fucking laundry machine work!? And ironing my clothes isnt going smoothly either. But apart from that it's all pretty nice. I'm more close to my girlfriend, and to my social life. Will he live to see 2007, or will he die from unwashed clothes, butnaked in the corner of his room!? More next week!

BIG EDIT: I will miss my loving job ofcourse =**

Edgar allen poe - The Raven

The single most beatifully written poem I've read in my life.

Once upon a midnight dreary,
while I pondered weak and weary,
over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore.
I was nodding nearly napping, when suddenly I heard a rapping,
as if someone gently tapping, tapping at my chamberdoor.
T'is a visitor I muttered, only this and nothing more.

Ah distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak december,
and ever burned out dying ember wrought his ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow, vainly I had sought to borrow, from my books
surcease of sorrow, sorrow for the lost lenore.
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named lenore.
Nameless here for nevermore.
And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me- filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
"'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door-
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;-
This it is, and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you"- here I opened wide the door;-
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering,
fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore!"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"-
Merely this, and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice:
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore-
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;-
'Tis the wind and nothing more."

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and
flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed
he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door-
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door-
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore.
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no
craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the Nightly shore-
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning- little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blest with seeing bird above his chamber door-
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered- not a feather then he fluttered-
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "other friends have flown
before-
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said, "Nevermore."

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore-
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of 'Never- nevermore'."

But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and
door;
Then upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore-
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee- by these angels he
hath sent thee
Respite- respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!- prophet still, if bird or
devil!-
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted-
On this home by horror haunted- tell me truly, I implore-
Is there- is there balm in Gilead?- tell me- tell me, I implore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil- prophet still, if bird or
devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us- by that God we both adore-
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore-
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Be that word our sign in parting, bird or fiend," I shrieked,
upstarting-
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!- quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my
door!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the
floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted- nevermore!