The Airportline: Observations

I've been sitting on trains and in airplanes again, and I've heard people describe my life as something that its not, maybe its my blog, maybe they are under the impression that this space is a true reflection of my life. Be assured that it is not, if you are sitting there in your office thinking that Airportline sure is up to crazy shit all the time, be assured that this is not the case.

I travel the functionalist road as well, even though I do spend time playing ping-pong in squats and run after rabbits in Eindhoven occasionally. I don't say this to be apologetic, or because my life is really boring, to me its not. I just worry sometime when I hear people describe the life they think I live and I keep thinking: wow, that sounds amazing.

Then again, I am sitting with a freshly brewed coffee, listening to Beach House's magical song Walk In The Park after watching the latest episode of the Daily Show. To me that is quite amazing, so maybe I'm just really easy to please, at least today, when I know that I don't need to do anything more or be anywhere else before I go to sleep.

’I’m an ant fucker,’ he said and laughed while I struggled to keep a straight face.
‘Yeah, that is what we call it in Dutch when we are really anal about things. ‘Ant fucker.’
‘Ant fucker?’ You guys are weird, I told my friends colleague when we stood in their studio in Eindhoven, trying to figure out what to do with my lap top before going to a party. The studio was situated in a former Nazi building in the city built by Philips, only a free kick away from the PSV Eindhoven stadium.

It is this night I blame for my current state, for the knives in my throat, for the unappealing fleece I am dressed up in as I try and be productive from home instead of from the office while a cold is trying to grab hold of me.

Before the ant fucker discussion we had been at a lecture where three title sequence directors gave talks and showed of their skills in front of an international crowd of design people, and me. One of the directors was French and had a highly impressive mustache. He also quoted Jean-Luc Goddard: “It’s not where you take things from – it’s where you take them to”. He was naturally my favourite. He was also a real quote machine and told us that he had ‘holes in his head’ when he didn’t find the right words. Even the designers found this to be amusing.

After some beers at this exhibition (now unfortunately closed) we went to a far away squat/art installation party where we got accordingly drunk and I engaged in a heated discussion about free press with a man with a giant Afro from Eritrea. He said that Dawit Isaak (Swedish journalist in jail in the country) should have known that you cannot criticize the government. And even though we did not come to an agreement, he had a very interesting perspective of the whole situation (which has been hotly debated for years in the Swedish media) and a revolutionary heart which he had taken to Geneva a few weeks before to protest the UN sanctions against the country. After a while he left me as he said that he needed 'to devote some time to the ladies’. We proceeded to get the Goddard quoting French man drunk and confused, we talked about French music and he brushed away my love for Phoenix, Tahiti 80 and Sebastien Tellier claiming that Serge Gainsbourg was the one and only true genius, which I personally felt was a bit cliché for a mustache wearing French man. This was not information I passed on to him.

When the party music was toned down, and my accomplices felt that it was time to leave, we jogged home (I still have no idea why, or how, we did that) through Eindhoven in the middle of the night. The city was quiet and strange buildings were lit up and industrial sites were abandoned. I was also chasing rabbits. Unfortunately they were faster than me.

I lost track of time, or I didn't loose track of it, but I filled it. Never made it to Fanfarlo on Tuesday. Concert was sold out, went and saw Deacon (member of Animal Collective) at Trouw instead, it was not a great show, not including the fact that he was wearing a Mali football jersey with Keita (Barcelona player), which by all means was quite fantastic. Then a Swedish friend of mine came from Sweden and we had vegan food and ecological beer. We had lunch in my old University building, I bought a book from Jonathan Ames even though I lack money, and we saw some terrible Dutch pop musicians and had beer that was not ecological. We went shopping and saw an exhibition called Niet Normaal, had some more beer, some pizza and we went to Utrecht one early morning where I scored three goals in a floorball game. Then went back and did not have bitterballens with our beer. We saw the FA-Cup game between Preston - Chelsea and fell asleep to Man Utd - Hull. We bought Belgian beers in the snowfall and made videos with questions and watched several episodes of Bored to Death. Today we woke up with hazy minds and he made his way out on the snowy streets and headed towards Eindhoven Airport. I stay low, guard my time and space. Trying not to loose it.

I went to Eindhoven. I was part of the morning commute, it felt strange. Bought the International Herald Tribune and read the business section, fell asleep before we got to Utrecht. In Eindhoven I sat in a corner office on the 12th floor. Talked with people about working, they answered, explained, thought about what it meant to them. They went and came, I sat there, with my paper and an orderly pile of coffee cups. My eyes looked tired but my brain was sharp. No need for a power nap. No time for a power nap. One of my interviewees had been in Stockholm; it consists of nine islands he told me. That might be right, I answered. Another person told me the best thing with Amsterdam is the train ride back to Eindhoven. They're quite funny, the people in Eindhoven. But the buses have cameras that show how you look like when you sit in a bus in monitors. Felt unnecessary.

About song about buses. Or the lack of them. Or something completely different.
Arctic Monkeys - No Buses