It’s Sunday evening and after twelve distractions I overcome to start the necessary moment of introspection in order to get to writing a blog post. Apparently this one started with a weird sentence. One of the distractions was a movie named Akira – I liked it. Another was picking a song, Primal Scream is taking a Hit of Morning Sun with me, on repeat. And somewhere I’m sure it’s morning. I missed this morning’s sun due to being in bed sleeping just like every normally behaving person anywhere. Yesterday however I got out to have a walk in the snow in Hasselt. It was pretty lame since 90% had disappeared overnight and what remained was dirty gray, yet in a lighter dirty gray than that of the hair left on the average bicentennial that seems to control the streets in this tiny city.
Hasselt, where I live and which I think will be the topic of the rest of this post, is a tiny city with big aspirations. It likes to profile itself as the ‘City of Taste’ and promotes about anything an average citizen could want. Free busses, the pride in their drinks that translate as Gin but they call ‘Jenever’, safe streets, more free anythings, clean streets, safety… Their enthusiasm also includes the Pop & Rock school I attend, so don’t get me wrong, before I start ranting* I wanna say these people are trying really hard and they’re cool and all. Always up for a talk, always friendly, motivated, open-minded…
The problem is that this city drives me mad sometimes. It’s full of old people and it has the same opening hours as Disneyland, with the only change that the kids can’t have fun, and the attractions are replaced by clothing stores, jewelry stores, make-up stores, more jewelry stores, cafés and jewelry stores. And a gallery with jewelry stores. Restaurants opportunities include a pizza hut, seven Turkish kebab places and forty-five three star restaurants full of old people. Every girl looks like the next and all the previous ones, for all I know they are all inbred sisters but I think they just get their seven layers of make-up and their hair strengthener from the same brand which kinda makes them look equal. The city makes riding a bike complex, with an amazing maze of paths that send you in random directions. People drive their car as if they still can’t believe it actually runs without a horse. They are so fucking friendly.
My god, they are so fucking friendly. Fuck. They really are. Everything takes ages. There’s some cool graffiti. I’ll probably have posted a couple of pictures below. The price of a drink is okay
The only thing it doesn’t provide me with is a thrill. It doesn’t excite me, it’s all so good. So acceptable by anyone. I am way too young to live in this city.
I’m tired of this and I think this post is long enough now.
*I was going to put a clever remark here but buh