And for a minute there, I lost myself

Surreal but nice

New York, 12 March 2007

She had a couple of hours left before heading to boring JFK airport. She walked around with her soul under her arms as they say. She had a few dollars left as well and when she walked passed it, accidentally, unplanned, she thought that she might as well end this holiday with something slightly awkward. Because she had questions she so desperately wanted answers to. She opened the door and stepped inside.
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You can be anything you want

I wanna be a Rock Star
I wanna be a Rock Star – a cafe in Notting Hill

If you 2 years ago would have said that I would live in London today I would have said you were crazy.
But there you go, it happened.

If you one and a half year ago would have said that I would go to a Bob Dylan concert I would have said you were crazy.
But there you go, I am going this evening.
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Back in London

The Norwegian Nisse

Holland was nice. There were family visits, Sinterklaas, a meeting with friends from way back (and the wonder that laughing with them always seems to be so easy, no matter how long we haven’t seen each other), and I got reunited with my little Norwegian friend here.

But it was a very weird and sad day today. Right in front of our office an older woman got hit by a car. It was raining and she was just laying very still on the middle of the street, her legs pulled up a little, and her grey hair spraid on the black asphalt . A man was holding an umbrella over her while other people called an ambulance. The ambulance arrived in 2 minutes. All the time we were waiting for her to move, but she didn’t. The ambulance people did not even attempt to revive her, she had died on the spot. She has been wandering around in my head since.
May she rest in peace.

No we are not going to

Bill Nighy in London

I had a serious talk with my new editor and we decided that we are not going to do it.

We are not going to write that today, it is exactly 1 year ago that I saw the film.

We are not going to write that the line “I’m not the man I dreamt I might be when I was young.” spoken by Lawrence/Nighy in the film got some alarmbells going off in my head.

We are not going to write that that exact line got me thinking “You are either going to wake up now and do something with your life, or you will wake up being 80 and realize you have missed a lot of oppurtunities and wasted your time away”.

We are not going to write that acting performances like Bill Nighy’s in that particular film made me realize that film really was something I was passionate about, and that I should try to do something with that information. And another thing we won’t write about concerning this particular performance : the fact that shy people can be this cool rocked my world.

We are not going to write that exactly one year later I have indeed used the inspiration I got from this film and Nighy to reboot my life. I do now live in the city I absolutely love and I have signed up for a course on the London film academy. I have been writing like a lunatic ever since, and will do something with that after the summer too. And besides all that we have been so incredibly lucky to actually already having met our inspirer.

We are definetely not going to write that my editor and I are going to have a little party tonight, to celebrate this one year anniversary of the film, and that we have tickets for the Pirates movie on the premiere night tomorrow too. But we do hope that you understand why the film is highly appreciated on this blog, and why Nighy is a regular subject here.

And a very last thing we are not going to reveal is that the pictures of Davy’s alter ego are here, if you would like to see how our mutual hero looks like. (they are not great, but ok, and on the last picture you find Johnny too).

It’s nice to have an editor, he’s good company and posts get a lot shorter and a lot less messy having one like him around.


“Is this today’s newspaper?” he asks, picking up my Metro from the seat beside me.
A young boy, 14-15 years, baseballcap, trainers, asks me politely.
“Is it yours?” he asks.
“Yes, but you’re welcome to read it.” Kids reading the newspaper, good thing, stimulate it.
“Oh, I’m sorry about that.” He gave me back the paper.
“No go on, no problem!” I smiled at him.
He took it, and started reading.

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