Festival Stories, Part I
Lauryn Lives in Theory

I was originally planning to put all my festival notes into one post, until I saw how huge that would become. So, here is the first installment, which is already very much outdated.

This was my first festival, called festival Mundial. I was so excited because, well, Lauryn Hill was coming. Now, for many people, this probably doesn't mean too much, but to others like me, she is a living legend. I mean, sure, she is a head-case, and is the reason that the Fugees broke up, which still haunts me. (although, for all we know they might have just gone down the road that the Black Eyed Peas went down... And in that case, thank you Lauryn. Thank you.)I loved her from the Fugees to her solo work, and I can't tell you how many times I have listened to her MTV unplugged album. If you don't really like Lauryn Hill, then I can safely assume that you haven't heard this album. Either that, or we are two extremely different people. Which is cool. The point is, I was going to make the trip to Tilburg solely to see her. The rest of the festival lineup was a complete mystery to me.

I bought my ticket online, and the next day I rechecked the festival website. There was an article that said: "Uncertainty about Laurn Hill Performing at Festival Mundial". Oh shit. Further reading said that although Festival Mundial was being optomistic, other concerts across Europe had been cancelled. There was no reason given. She had just disappeared. Not even her agent could contact her. Part of me wasn't surprised. This is, after all, Lauryn Hill, who broke up the Fugees and once said "When they think you're crazy, they leave you alone."

Still, I had paid, and without there being any certain cancellation, I went. Against all odds. I hoped it was a publicity stunt.

This was the page in the concert brochure. The top line in pink letters says: "YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO MISS". I watched several acts, which included reggae and a lot of great world music acts. But at the back of mind, all I could think about was Lauryn. That 3D animation picture was staring me down. (I think it is a very old picture. I mean, you cannot tell me that this woman in the picture has had 5 kids...)


Still, there were no announcements at the park. Finally, when it was her time to perform, an uncertain crowd was standing around the main pavillion. A presenter took up the microphone. n

"You all still think that Lauryn Hill is going to come, don't you?"
"Well, I'm sorry, she isn't."
"And what do we think about that huh?"

Yes, the douchebag was asking the crowd to boo Lauryn Hill. I wasn't sure what to think. On the one hand, she stood me up, but on the other hand, she is Lauryn Hill.

"But we have a great replacement band for you. All the way from... Belgium!!!!"

Now, that last statement was very wrong on two levels. One, the centre of Tilburg is about 8 kilometres from Belgium. I am not making this up. Next, after long deliberation on the loooong way home, the only person who could have walked on that stage right then, and not have disappointed me, would be Tracy Chapman. And I don't think she is Belsch.

No, instead it was some band called Vive La Fête, who might be be a famour band, but it was a complete slap in the face to people who like Lauryn-ish music. I can only describe the music as "Rock which would be very popular in Japan." The band played a song full of distortion, and the singer sqealed out the lyrics of the song, all of which were the word "Tokio". I left disappointed.

On the way home, which took four hours, I wrote a poem. It seems appropriate because of her poetessing ways. It's called Lauryn Lives in Theory, which is a reference to a song of hers "Adam lives in Theory". (there are footnotes to explain some of the esoteric references)

Could anything, really, replace a voice so smooth
or anything relay a message so true
Even it's own reality, years removed [1]
I hope you find yourself, hope you're well
It was my turn, but you pulled a Chapelle [2]
I went to the mountain, but never saw the hill [3]
In your perfection I remember you still
Though Mt. Fuji was hidden behind the mist [4]
It was better than Basho could ever have wished [5]
And today I missed the chance of a lifetime
To sing, "one time, two time" [6]



1. In reference to the 3D-like photo
2. Dave Chapelle who simply left his comedy central show mid-season.
3. Her last name. Maybe this one wasn't so esoteric after all.
4. Mt. Fuji, the most revered mountain in Japan/ The Fugees, perhaps the most revered hip hop group of all time.
5. Basho, a 17th Century haiku poet who had one chance to see Mt. Fuji, but it was concealed behind the mist. Yet, to him and according to native aesthetic principles, this was more beautiful than if he had actually seen it.
6. Killing Me Softly. She did.


Added bonus: the pink lettering on the bottom says: "Missed it anyway?"

We all did.

As if no-one is reading...

Often times I lapse and neglect writing on Back 'n Dutch, or earlier on Ruben in Japanland. I did so earlier this month. It sometimes doesn't seem so important to keep this updated. I mean, not many people read my weblog, and I like it that way. I just like to tell stories in a (hopefully) interesting and funny way to people I know when they are curious about how I am keeping busy.

My most recent lapse this month was due to a combination of being busy with work and with play, and lots of other things that seem so trivial now. For on Friday 17th, my most loyal follower, my Opa died while coming home from a day trip. He had left that morning, but not before checking this site. Of course, I hadn't updated in over two weeks, so probably his last thought about me was one of disappointment.

I know he checked because I can follow the counter on this website, although I always knew with Opa anyway. He would often ask me when I was going to write next. During a particularly long lapse, he even sent me an email asking me to keep writing. I was working on a manuscript at the time, which sadly, he'll never get to read. Despite being my biggest fan, he would never really make comments about what I wrote; it wasn't his style, which is fine by me since I am not good accepting criticism and worse at accepting praise.

Knowing that Opa, an 80 year old, would be reading it, in a way was a kind of censor on my writing. Since he was a retired policeman, I probably wouldn't have written, for example, about how me and my friend who was visiting me from Japan decided to pee into the canals. I mean, I wanted to give my friend the complete Dutch experience. Not that I am in any way saying that I did indeed pee into the canal. But that censorship was probably a good thing. As all the great comedians I admire have shown, that only forces you to be more creative.

Also, despite it being daunting having a grandparent cyberstalk you, you can't ignore the fact that a man in his 80's had a blog-roll. It is pretty amazing how he kept up with all the technology, which I think, he did mainly to keep in touch with family. During the time I have been writing this weblog I have been out of Dutchland, and this is basically the only way we kept in touch. I write. He reads. I know he reads. So the idea that the last time he checked here and it was still the same post about me being stupid and parading around a festival with a rubber Michael Jackson mask on, that stings a little. Only now, I am starting to realise that, his loyalty to reading what I am doing was his way of supporting me in the thing I love to do the most. I love to write, and it saddens me that Opa won't be reading it anymore. I just needed some time to see that in the beginning, I write for myself.

"Write as if no-one's reading
Edit as if everyone is."

Ruben

The King of Parkpop
Music season continues

Parkpop, Den Haag, is one of the largest free music festivals in Europe (according to their website, and I don't see any reason as to why they would lie about it). Nevertheless, there were a reported 275,000 people who went. I thought I wouldn't be the only one. How could I be? It turns out I was.

I had decided to un-retire my Michael Jackson costume as a final tribute. It seemed fitting. I had added a pair of aviator glasses to the costume to furthe conceal my non-MJ face-area features. So, quite a few people recognised MJ and said something unwitty ("hee hee", "Oh mijn God, He's alive" etc.) I was entertained. At one stage, a guy politely asked if he could take a photo of me. Sure. Another few people pulled out their cellphones and snapped a pic. Then a guy asked me, "Why, actually, are you doing this?" You know, I didn't know.

So, I was watching a band play, and i heard a guy screaming "Michael Jackson!". I was getting used to it, but he kneeled down next to me, and I saw his mask. It was a creepy caricature rubber MJ mask with wig. I was so excited. I needed a photo of us together. That would be hilarious. However, he took off the mask, and told me to put it on. Oh man, this was fabulous. I suddenly realised that everybody around me started pointing, staring and taking photos. People came up to pose with me. It was crazy. Then the guy told me that I could keep the mask. It's yours, he said. Wow, I had the perfect costume. This was the best idea I have ever had.
I don't have good photos and videos myself, but in time, I will try and retrieve some.

It was, however, extremely hot under the mask and jacket, and I wanted to watch the next act without getting mugged by strangers. After the first act finished and said "R.I.P Michael Jackson", I danced around and the mask came off.

A few hours later, I re-donned the mask while some really groovy gypsy music was playing. This time, the reaction was insane. Seconds after the mask was on, I looked around. Through the eyeholes, I panned 360 degrees around me. Everyone was staring, laughing and taking photos of me. I had people lining up for photos, screaming like only MJ fans could, telling me to do the moonwalk (I can't). At one stage, a group of ten 13-year olds spotted me, screamed, and swarmed me. I wanted to do a cool MJ-pose, and I was about to do the classic crotch-grab... Bad idea. Abort! Abort! I remembered who I was just on time. Ooh. that was close. But then, he only liked boys, so it would have been okay.

After maybe five minutes, a wanted to leave the mayhem, when a bikini-clad hippy bear-hugged me and begged me to dance with her. I pranced for a second, kept walking, and tore the mask off Mission: Impossible-stlye. This was fucking insane. I started to understand how his life was. And if this is the reaction a fake MJ gets and exhausted me after five minutes, then it is absolutely amazing that Michael Jackson lived to see his 50th birthday.

I was actually scared to put the mask on again after that (especially since I got separated from my large group of friends). So I was just holding the mask as I watched the acts perform. Near the end of the night, I got another tap on my shoulder. A lady asked me in a very proper English accent: "Are you going to put this mask on? It's just that, I'm an awfully big Michael Jackson fan. I can't believe he is dead, and would do anything to have a photo with him." I told her, 'look, if I put this on, people will go insane. You know how dangerous it is'. But her friend, begged me further in a cockney accent. I didn't make them do "anything" for me, it was enough just to make the cockney stop.

It was then that I finally accepted the death of MJ. The grieving period was over, and I am boldly stepping out into the post MJ-era. I was worried that people would think I was mocking him, and that someone would take offense and beat me up. (One group of guys were angry that I couldn't do the moonwalk). But somehow, as the English lady showed me, I was doing a good thing; making people happy. And in the end, that was what Michael Jackson wanted. A talkative/drunk guy at the train station said to me, 'I'm not a fan by any means, but you can say what you want, there isn't one person around who, when alone by themself, hasn't done a "hee hee" [said as he grabbed his balls]'. While I wouldn't say it in those exact terms, I do agree. And today, I fulfilled a large quota of "hee hee"'s.

It was a great idea and a great day. For a day, I was King of Parkpop. Now, Halloween can't come soon enough.