About Me

Being Inspired

The plan was to die at 30. Well, that didn’t happen. And so it started…

I don’t really have to run, but I keep on doing it. I am always running away from everything. Somehow it makes sense. It really does.

Lately I have been reading a lot online about these Digital Nomads. Made me think about all places outside Belgium I lived and worked in during all those years. Of course every location is connected with a woman. What can I say?

Chamonix (France), Salou (Spain), Crete (Greece), Madeira (Portugal), Phuket (Thailand), Gran Canaria (Spain), Fuerteventura (Spain), Sofia (Bulgaria), Malta.

Maybe that’s why I am still living out of suitcases? I am a Nomad. Not a digital one. Just an ordinary nomad. Always ready to go.

I do admit I love reading about these Digitals. They inspire me. It’s nice to discover that the desire of being location independent still exists.  However, most of them are going to fail…big time, but some will ride the wave all the way and survive (like me). A few will make it. Good for them.

To prove to you that recycling isn’t always best for the planet, I am going to share the last post I contributed to Islander on May 25, 2017. That will be some kind of introduction. Because you know, introductions take forever. The plan is to dedicate the next 52 and a half years to The Half Centennial. Enjoy!

About Me Being Inspired

Me And My Imaginary Friends

Talking to some women is like talking to God. Most of the time it feels like I am talking to myself. Spot on. No matter how you twist it. Unfortunately.
Good thing there´s cold beer, happy  food, dope, supersexy kinky stuff and funky art. Imagine an existance without a single one of them. I am not a machine. Basicaly because I refuse to be one. Game on.
The day looks promising. No doubt something is happening today. The fucking canvas isn´t cooperating though. But that’s okay. Been there done that. I  guess its high time to hit the road, going to town. Who am I to refuse?
It´s hard to break old habbits. And most of all, extremely boring.
Lust for life. I have said it before and I sincerely hope I will be repeating myself for a bloody long time.There is always something to do when all seems lost. And there´s so much more to do when everything looks promising. Energy. I always felt a bit (read a lot) like an outcast in this world where everybody is dying or killing themselves. Blessed or cursed?
And does it even matter how and what we call it?
No, but sometimes I feel like that piece of food in the fridge that should be thrown away in the garbage because it´s expired.
Yesterday a friend of mine killed himself. Funny how this makes you feel that you are not alone.
I am still thinking about the weird encounter I had this morning on my way to the liquor shop.  This woman that I have never met, was calling me by my first name and talking about stuff I can´t possibly picture ever happened. I am like fog between all these black holes in my memory. It´s becoming a problem. Then again, maybe the reason I don´t think life´s fucking boring is because it starts every day again from scratch. Every day a new adventure.
How fucking great.

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