In the park we talk about power and on-going circular damaging dramaturgies.

I sprawled my whole Self all over Marina Abramovic sculptures at the Pompidou. I made a scene. Only three people at a time were allowed. So it was me and my friend for about an hour because no one wanted to come in as I penetrated all her work. Everyone just looked from outside. I was shaking and sweating. It was one of those moments. She’s magic.

My friend has this beautiful single speed bike that’s all red. I want.

Went to Montparnasse Cemetery and made a weird movie about me and Simone de Beauvoir’s grave.

I found many olive oil and balsamic vinaigrette bottles at this tacky nouveau riche people’s house we were staying at for a few days outside of Paris, so I made a game out of it. Don’t you wish you and I were friends? (If you are a girl into electronic music, actually, I’d love to be friends with you. I have no girls to talk shop with and it’s so disheartening).

In Amsterdam I found the best lattes ever at Espressofabriek in Westerpark, which is undoubtedly the best part of the city, and I’m happy my friend and classmate from Digital Methods, Marc Tuters let me stay there for a week while he was away. Can’t you see how pleased I look?

I went to this fancy affordable organic resto, Proef, also in Westerpark, based on my best friend’s fiancee’s recommendation and it was amazing because it was all food I’ve had before done in a totally different way and everything came with a dip or sauce! While eating, things got quite serious with my MUJI notebook.

I bought my bike for 40 euros. It was a broken-down Peugeot that gave my thighs the workout of their life, even if Amsterdam is all flat, but I loved it all the same. Cycling and documenting.

J.O. is always fixing his shawl like a true Parisian.

Contemplating my last morning in Amsterdam after two months of creating a life there and after days of not sleeping.

Last night in the city also meant the spotting of such cuteness while walking through the Jordaan.

Near the Damrak, people don’t obey the rules, they just smoke weed, do shrooms and walk around like slimy zombies.

In Brussels Midi Station the advertising greets you this horribly.

On the sidewalk in downtown Brussels we found piles of letters from different women in France all addressed to the same man. The letters dated from 1987-1990. They were strange, romantic, desperate, familial and mundane. I wonder what happened that these letters ended up sprawled on the side of the road? I tried to make sense of them but the writing was difficult to decipher and was also in French. I want to keep them forever and write to each woman. Why was it only letters from women? From what I deciphered they all knew each other in different capacities, were different ages, and some must have been extended family. Maybe I’ll call Sophie Calle to help me.

Mitsu‘s friend McCloud Zicmuse hosted me in his wonderful house. He basically saved my life with such a giving and peaceful place to sleep for the last night of my Europe trip.

The view from Zicmuse’s place.

Goodbye Europe. À Bientôt. Maybe next time I won’t leave, ok?

Anne Sexton wrote that. I’ve blogggged it before. It’s one of the most perfect pieces of words brought together I have ever read so here it is again & again. Amsterdam and its constant downpours are almost over, a few more days until I have to go back to Toronto, and then I fly home (??), fly back to my city where I have no place to live, no potential roommates and the second year of my MA to start/finish. I have no home in Toronto, just memories. Where am I going? Maybe having no place to go opens me up to go anywhere, to have the potential for everything.

Last week my friend Wassim and I were talking about how badass it would be to ride your bike to the airport and go fly somewhere. So, today I biked 20km to Schiphol airport through the giant Amsterdamse Bas (the forest). I didn’t board the plane though, I carry too many shoes to fit in a backpack. Instead, I stopped by the road where many people were sitting on blankets and on cars with binoculars and fancy telephoto lenses. Parents with their children were also running around, maybe showing them another family member flying away. I remember when I was young in the 90′s flying was very expensive and rare for the average person, so every time one of us would fly out the others would hang out of the car by the airport and watch as the LOT plane took off for Warsaw. We stopped doing that years ago, probably because the rarity of flying ended and now I see the inside of airports all the time.

I biked around some more. I started feeling really good, really right, right then. I mean, there’s been so much outpouring that Amsterdam and I don’t get along for the last three weeks and here I was, feeling “in my element.” I started taking photos of the parking lot. It was only after I was shooting for a while that I realized the comfort and ‘rightness’ I felt was because I allowed myself to become intimate with Amsterdam. I wrote about my desire for intimacy with architecture and physical spaces for a GPS video I did last year, suivez-moi. Perhaps this sounds totally cliche, and I guess it could be, but it makes so much sense to me, to take Amsterdam with my body, literally. I guess to be in love you have to be intimate in some way yea?

Yesterday I read all of Joan Didion’s The Last Thing He Wanted.

more more »

These are the photos I took to remember what I looked like before heading out in case something happened to me. I got what I wanted: to practice my footwork and be among a large mass of non-stop dancers. What I didn’t want: non-stop comments from guys about my dancing, about me being out alone, about me being an ‘American.’ //

OT301 is an organized squat near Vondelpark that sells cheap wine (2 euro) and is a venue to many music and art shows. It also houses a restaurant, De Peper, selling vegan and organic 2-course meals for 6 to 10 euro. Like most squat restos in Amsterdam, you have to call earlier in the afternoon to book a reservation for that night. This makes me want to start a cheap kitchen initiative in Toronto because I don’t know of one, do you?

I am living with Rico, who runs IChione, and his family for the summer in their attic in Amstelveen. It is strange to have a peer that also has a 14 year old daughter. It is an interesting negotiation for me as a student but also an adult. At 23, Rico was on his way to be an ordained monk but then his daughter was conceived and he realized his way into it could not occur because he’d have to leave them both behind.

Here are some of what I saw yesterday in my new neighbourhood playing around with my UV lens. Flickr.

.

MUSIC: Also, a few days ago one of my favorite music people in the world, Loops Haunt, posted a mix called Strange Fruit Vol 1. It has many wonderful old love songs on it. You should download it and have him be in your life too. OK? OH! And I just found out that he’s playing StekkerFest in Utrecht on August 14! I am there! Maybe this special person I know can come too? For his biiiiiirthday?