02 Dec 2012 | Everyone's Blog Posts - Making Routes

World Wide Wandering

E found that early attempts at wandering through Paris and London were frequently thwarted by the irresistible pull of the iPhone Maps application. How could e follow the psychogeographical contours of the city when the multinational data gatherers had been there already, rendering the streets and boulevards hopelessly knowable and searchable? Leaving the technology at home seemed disingenuous; a desperate nostalgic hankering for a bygone age before mobile internet. The city was no longer…

28 Oct 2012 | walking (sideways)

Suit thoughts

I say, beware of all enterprises that require new clothes, and not rather a new wearer of clothes. If there is not a new man, how can the new clothes be made to fit? If you have any enterprise before you, try it in your old clothes. All men want, not s...

15 Oct 2012 | walking (sideways)

wor(l)ds

a new old friend wrote a few lines to meafter I had flooded him with words and suggestionstelling me he didn't have as many worlds as I haveI was puzzleddid he mean words or worldsor is it the same thing?when I don't know what I'm thinking I'm writingw...

06 Oct 2012 | walking (sideways)

Retracing the missing link

I'm still carrying it in my pocket, the MISSING LINK. It is symbolic for how my walking soles led to a walking soul. A tiny smelly piece of plastic. But in the eye of the beholder everything can look like gold. Even turn into gold.What happened to Don ...

06 Oct 2012 | walking (sideways)

Plastic dreams

My first night at the 8th continent. After I soaked in a steaming bathtub outside in the woods behind the Metaal Kathedraal I slept under the church's wooden arches surrounded by shiny plastic. Over my head six giant plastic fish were watching over me....

05 Oct 2012 | walking (sideways)

Hunting & gathering day 4

Today I had the speed of a turtle, I got bigger and bigger. I found a big yellow arrow pointing in the direction I was heading. Hours of suffering felt like seconds the moment I had reached my goal. Like always I felt happy and sad. Happy to be somewhe...

04 Oct 2012 | walking (sideways)

Hunting & gathering day 3

Today was a good day, like the other days have been good days but different.It was hard, the load got heavier but I didn't mind. People were nice to me, the route was beautiful, I ate my lunch at a place where time had stood still. The plastic is pilin...

04 Oct 2012 | walking (sideways)

sunglassloss

I lost my sunglasses todaythey're made out of plastic but that's not the pointI'm in the habit of loosing and finding thingsI already lost two pairs earlier this summerone fell in the Albert Canal in Belgium, the other pair found its way to Barcelonasu...

03 Oct 2012 | walking (sideways)

plastic memory

at first I thought I had upset the plastic gods, no idea how I had done that the weather was awful and there was hardly any plastic I walked through fields in the pouring rain, being stared at by cows and horsesthe few snippets of chocolate wrapping an...

03 Oct 2012 | walking (sideways)

Hunting and gathering day 2

Second day. 18 km. A rainy day. I have some nice talks with people. Two women who think I'm living rough feel sorry for me because of the weather. When I explain they wish me all the best. Two young fishermen (they can't be older than 10) ask me what I...

02 Oct 2012 | walking (sideways)

Hunting and gathering day 1

First day. I walked just over 20 km. Half way I found a giant boomerang. I wonder who threw it. I wonder what will happen when I throw it.Plastic is amazing. It has the most beautiful colours. You can shape it in whatever shape you want. It is waterpro...

01 Oct 2012 | walking (sideways)

future cucumbers

next week I'll go back to Weimarto challenge Bach and Nietzscheand grow cucumbers in Goethe's garden in memory of W.G. Sebaldwho once (and at other times in other words) said in an interview when he was asked if he could imagine to stop doing the thing...

30 Sep 2012 | walking (sideways)

Reading Rilke

In this there is no measuring with time, a year doesn’t matter, and ten years are nothing. Being an artist means: not numbering and counting, but ripening like a tree, which doesn’t force its sap, and stands confidently in the storms of spring, not afr...