Monthly Archives: October 2016

Have you ever wondered what truly makes you into who you are? I don’t mean your profession, or the numerous degrees you have accumulated throughout the years… No I refer to the core, the thin red line that has followed you all your life. It’s a question I am not totally unfamiliar with, although if queried a few years ago I would have found a great deal harder to answer. But then it became clear (during a lunch discussing dollars and the origin of Brooklyn).

And there was not just one thread, but many that together shaped the answer. My blog being an integral part, but so were the many people I met. The adventures I sought, the obscure books I read (Hypnerotomachia Poliphili springs to mind). At first I simply said I was a story teller. A 21st century troubadour. But it was more than that. Most stories were not even my own. I stole them from people I collected around me. So I became a collector…of people…and stories. And with that I suppose a curator and well…a thief. Because as the wise man says…every sin is a variation of theft. And I am no less guilty. It’s better to ask for forgiveness that for permission, right? Just do it, as C would say.

And I did. Often in the name of survival. It’s another trait deeply ingrained. Becoming an orphan made me a gypsy. A traveller and an outsider. The outsider who slowly worked to reach the inside. You catch my drift….perhaps not. As C so often says, my thoughts skipping from one thing to another. Never sitting still. That’s why I like him. He makes my mind bounce…


revealing, yet conceiling

It’s one of the earliest Latin quotes I recall from my history lessons. The quote is what Cato the Elder finished – without exception – all his speeches with, in the Roman Senate. The infamous words left their imprint and not long after Cato had breathed his last breath, Carthage was indeed destroyed (146 BC). Some 1650 years later, Machiavelli wrote a handbook on how to survive in a highly polarized and political universe. The other day, for many a reason, I ordered the book. Unfortunately it was delivered just after I had left home. Carthago delenda est….one name so easily exchangeable for another.


The Prince in transit

Intensive schedule with D-Day approaching! November 10 – Don’t miss SIM-CI’s CI Summit on Disrupting the Disruptors! In the meantime, always a pleasure having meetings at Google 🙂


Whether Monday morning or end of play, how can one NOT have fun working 🙂

After a little over one year my Mac couldn’t take the abuse I’ve put it through lately. It didn’t quite give up the ghost, but knowing it would be a tortuous journey and a slow death, I went in search for an upgrade. Not cheap, but well worth it!


Macbook pro 13 inch 3,1 GHz Intel Core i7 16 GB 1867 MHz DDR3 🙂

The days seem as they are fused with each other. The beginning consuming the end, and so the morning debuts once more. The colours a little more vivid than before. A gentle transition. From crimson red velvet to a faded salmon pink. Your eyes are resting on the fabric. Crushed velvet, shifting tones as you play with it in the light of the setting sun. If it was music it would be Gnossienne No. 3. Lent. Although you feel more like it is a farewell to what has been, now waiting to be broken down into soil and clay. And so days are transitioned into weeks….months, beyond winter solstice… Mileage, my dear, mileage….like the damned Sisyphus….being none the wiser….soldiers on, not ever reaching the peak, nor finding peace. The impoverished farmer tending the paddy fields, the last piece of land still his. Yet tomorrow, the floods will sweep away its ever coarse and infertile soil.

You ponder whether you are the farmer, his tools or the elements he is trying to harness. You still ponder, beyond your bedtime….to the music of Satie.