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amsterdam, desk

if it's thursday, it must be . . .

old school modernism

Let's see. On Sunday I woke up and couldn't think of anything better to do that get on a train bound for Belgium. Mostly I chose Antwerp(en) over Brussels because it was closer and at least one travel website called it one of Europe's great overlooked destination cities (or something along those lines). I arrived, walked around, saw that almost all stores were closed in observanceof it being the day of the lord, found a museum that stayed open "late" (6 pm!) and looked at some paintings. There were lots of scenes of just how rad/awful the Apocalypse is going to be, plenty of works by James Ensor (Belgium's famous painter), hilarious pictures of jesus [#,#], a great painting of a pre-king and his greyhound [#] and that sort of thing. When it was time to leave the museum, I had dinner, walked along the river a bit, saw some old buildings that looked really pretty at night, and caught a train back home.

This week I've mostly been working, making lovely charts and graphs. I saw a couple of movies, too. The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada was surprisingly good. Also, since there was no techfee to videoconference into, I was able to check out the student-run theater's "sneak peek" screening, in which the tickets are cheap, but you don't know what's going to be shown. It turned out to be in English (which I confirmed prior to going in), but nearly unwatchable (Tidelands by Terry Gilliam). I'm sure that somewhere, there is an audience that would find watching an unsupervised, neglected, somewhat deranged, pre-teen on the prairie playing make believe and getting into deeply inappropriate situations with her older mentally-handicapped neighbor to be a lovely way to spend a couple hours. Perhaps, with enough chemical intervention and my own soundtrack this could have been enjoyable?

I guess I have about a week left here; so I should get around to those postcards, souvenir shopping, and looking for other distractions from being stressed about leaving.

Comments

A little of both. Part of me would like to stay forever, in a constant state of charm and non-tallness. But since I know that I'm leaving in a week, I'm getting anxious for the anxiety of leaving to be over.

Little things, like "should I just throw away all of the linens that I bought here" cause me regular fits of indecision. It's completely ridiculous.