<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125</id><updated>2012-01-12T21:50:06.757+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Dreamworld Fantasm</title><subtitle type='html'>Dreams blog
I have been dreaming quite strangely. That is: I remember them more.
Since I have written loads down on paper I decided to publish them online.
I try to describe them as detailed as I remember them.
I am open to having friends blog here as well. To make this an interesting place to read about the strange phenomena of dreams.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Gorkur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16727265518259204743</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>171</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-115606338086959310</id><published>2006-08-20T10:41:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-08-20T11:01:02.240+02:00</updated><title type='text'>A note about the blogging</title><content type='html'>As you can see I have not blogged a dream for a while. I also no longer plan to do so.&lt;br /&gt;It is partly because people take my blogs too seriously, therefore I have removed some as well.&lt;br /&gt;The other part is because I have been having so much nightmares that I do not want to remember or write down.  &lt;br /&gt;The rest of the members can do what they want however. &lt;br /&gt;I resign.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-115606338086959310?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/115606338086959310/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=115606338086959310' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/115606338086959310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/115606338086959310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2006/08/note-about-blogging.html' title='A note about the blogging'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-115243395540033717</id><published>2006-07-09T10:09:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-07-09T10:32:35.413+02:00</updated><title type='text'>A music festival</title><content type='html'>It was evening and we went to an incredibly busy music festival. There was the rock music section which was outside. There was also a Dj-ing section what some lame DJ was talking about earlier in the record store. That hall was almost empty. The Hardhouse tent was a bit more busy. I lost the friend I came with somewhere in the busy queue at the entrance. Later I found him sleeping on the floor in a tent without any musicians. After have hidden and ran the last night we needed some rest.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-115243395540033717?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/115243395540033717/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=115243395540033717' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/115243395540033717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/115243395540033717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2006/07/music-festival.html' title='A music festival'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-114820478542796243</id><published>2006-05-21T11:18:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-05-21T11:46:27.243+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Running around the place</title><content type='html'>I was on a plastic boat, half a kilometer from the shore. There was very little other traffic there and I ran my hand through the water. I saw a dark shadow and noticed a dolphin arising from the water. He pulled me to the other side of the sea, only about 5 km wide, and I arrived on land. I had my study books and my cat in my arms. &lt;br /&gt;I left the boat unattended and walked past a lifeguard post. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; After going to the town area, I followed the street signs and wondered what the address was again of a friend there. I looked around and remembered looking it up on a map on the internet. I followed the roads and went up some unstable stairs. Someone was standing behind me and he told me they should fix it. There were people inside the building that should just do it immediately. He asked me to jump from the stairs into the second floor and find them. So I did, and I ran through the dark. In the end of the corridor lay about 5 men sleeping in sleeping bags. I woke up the youngest and asked him to fix the stairs. He was sleepy and simply did not feel like commencing. Meanwhile the man behind me on the stairs was also there and made him do it. I sought further and noticed some signs on the streets had not only dutch streetnames, but also dutch direction posts to sightseeing places. Apparently I was in a dutch neighborhood as the people standing next to me looking for directions were also dutch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I really could not remember the streetname, but saw a bakery on one of the appartment doors. I went inside and it was a small private lunchroom. I got into conversation with the owners and then noticed my books were missing. I must have lost them somewhere along the way. I left my cat there and ran back. I sought , but I could not find it anywhere.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-114820478542796243?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/114820478542796243/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=114820478542796243' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/114820478542796243'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/114820478542796243'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2006/05/running-around-place.html' title='Running around the place'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-114637435115421982</id><published>2006-04-30T07:05:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-04-30T07:19:11.170+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Commodore 64 demoparty in Holland</title><content type='html'>I was in a Commodore 64 party in Holland. It cost 70 euros to get in, I got this blue hand banner or what you call the thing you put in your wrist..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I had to run away from hollow, blue-from-the-inside cows that looked like the mix of a ghost and a moose also sometimes they looked like elephants. In the dream, my mother had even told that there are moose-looking cows in Holland.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eeveryone was into some kind of virtual race driving.. which required a small physical toy-car or part of it. Then it had some microchips in it that formulated similar car in the game. Someone called LisaZ was giving me lessons in how to drive, but I sucked still and many enjoyed my failures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I met many of the C64 scene people in real life and they seemed so different than what I have always thought of them guys... they all were actually nice people, and very human.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was some kind of thing where you could buy a ticket and maybe win something... there were odd interview questions to people at random, then AMJ asked me something. He first asked if I had been called yet, and then repeated 'hello' until I answered (only then realizing he was talking to me) .. but just before he did, he answered himself a quick question which was "What did you say to your father" just when I thought my own answer to that, he said that he had said "I don't like you very much", and it was exactly same answer as mine! Actually, then I looked him with an amazed look on my face and he thought that it was just because of what he had said to his father, but it was really because he had stolen my answer right from my head, hehe! Many questions were like "Who (scener) loves you the most" and "Who (scener) do you love the most" and I realized I couldn't even answer those questions .. But many sceners had no problem with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was gonna go somewhere soon but then I kinda understood it was a whole-weekend computer party and I had no rush anywhere so I just sat down in front of my computer and tinkered with it while there was something going on and turned off some lights..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the dream got kinda scary, I was walking in the fields near the computer party (an odd detail about this dream is that I looked at my wrist-banner and I could -clearly- see the details, it stating 'Holland' and '70 euros' and I bet I could even recognize the font if someone showed it to me - usually I don't remember details about dreams).. enjoying the scenery and the weird cows, I realized their eyes and mouth were totally white and glowing and I could see right through them, and that they were actually HOLLOW, and glowing blue light very faintly from the inside when you looked deep enough. I could actually see through one cow and see even through the next cow who was following it, running towards me like crazy ..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tried to outrun them but I couldn't, I don't remember exactly what happened in the dream but it became really scary and I had to wake myself up! A couple of times, because I didn't have the strenght to wake up the second time .. then I got mad at the universe for first making it so difficult to get to sleep and then making it so difficult to awaken (it's a difficult moment when your body is paralyzed but your mind is awsken and the mind is soon sinking back into sleep without a hope of a non-nightmare dream and you wish to wake up but have to summon all your strenght for it) .. that I decided to wake up no matter WHAT!! And I did, with pure willpower. I was even a bit impressed that I could do it so determinedly, hehe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I just realized in that dream I had misjudged many of the Commodore 64 scene people and thought negatively of some eventhough they were nice guysand gals in real life and treated me (eventually) like a human being. I actually felt some kind of kinship towards everyone and couldn't wait for the party to go on and all the demos start etc. It was a great computer party!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-114637435115421982?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/114637435115421982/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=114637435115421982' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/114637435115421982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/114637435115421982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2006/04/commodore-64-demoparty-in-holland.html' title='Commodore 64 demoparty in Holland'/><author><name>OneMonk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17306882327908843438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-114581737352046622</id><published>2006-04-23T20:31:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-04-23T20:36:13.536+02:00</updated><title type='text'>losing it ALL</title><content type='html'>I bought a lot of carefully selected stuff from this place that was like a supermarket but bigger and better, it sold things you can't normally buy. I filled my shopping cart.. it took a long time, maybe hours to do this. Finally I was satisfied with what I had bought and paid and went outside to look for my car. I realized I had forgotten something, went back in to ask some clerk a question or something. When I came back, my shopping cart with all it's stuff was gone! I panicked and then I tried to find my car. It took a long time, but finally I found it. When I tried to enter it, I realized I didn't have the car key anymore - I had lost it too! At some point I even lost the car, someone had stolen it I guess. I broke down with tears and desperation.. I lost everything I held valuable, I also lost the will to live.. That was total panic, fear, desperation and sadness at the same time.. I didn't know what to do or how to get home or anything.. There was a part where I also lost my favorite video game in an arcade too. When I woke up, I felt still devastated by losing everything .. but when I realized it was only a dream, I felt really relieved! It took me a long time to recover, however, and it was strange how long time it actually took before I realized I actually live in this world, in this apartment, who I actually was etc. The dream felt so real, the feeling was so deep that waking up was totally surreal to me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-114581737352046622?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/114581737352046622/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=114581737352046622' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/114581737352046622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/114581737352046622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2006/04/losing-it-all.html' title='losing it ALL'/><author><name>OneMonk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17306882327908843438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-114581687658181529</id><published>2006-04-11T20:10:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-04-23T20:28:39.996+02:00</updated><title type='text'>A rather strange fleamarket</title><content type='html'>I was waiting for a bus in Sweden. I got the day off early.&lt;br /&gt;I was sent home right after 13:00. At work they were typing in irc displayed with a beamer.&lt;br /&gt;As there was nothing to do, I could leave already. So I went home. I had to wait a while for the bus to arrive. I saw a nice gardening complex and went to look at people's gardens.  It was beautiful, as many flowers where in bloom. I also saw somethings being sold when I looked around. So I , ofcourse, searched for some computers. I saw some old HP machine that looked like the old breadbox model. Then I noticed a C= set with joystick and it was even in use.  I spoke to the owner and he said he was an active scener, but wouldn't give my his handle. And I somehow got on his bad side because I ended up fighting for my life in a parcours under the ground in a kind of hell. In the end, I won and fell asleep. I woke up with the two items I wanted to buy from him and a note.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-114581687658181529?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/114581687658181529/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=114581687658181529' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/114581687658181529'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/114581687658181529'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2006/04/rather-strange-fleamarket.html' title='A rather strange fleamarket'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-114435560580548438</id><published>2006-04-06T22:28:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-04-06T22:33:25.823+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Sweet and Salt</title><content type='html'>As I closed my eyes, the not so early night would be swallowed by the morning. Carefully I leant back to drill my head into the pillows and enjoy some sleep, when I woke up. "Geez", my eyes were dazzling by the light and I saw how a lady stood by my side and looked at me. Her body was nice, however I saw she was hiding in some kind of transparent organic fiber, just as covered to leave my mind in peace. Yeah, I tried to look at her face, but she turned around like mist she was gone. There was something inside me, something wanted to follow her and find out who she is. Carefully I stood up and took one step into the unknown, however the ground felt warm and firm at the same time as it felt boiling cold. I did not dare to look down, afraid to whitens something beyond my expectation, so I walked the line. I could smell a fragrance that brushed my face, it reminded me about an empty daycare-room or plastic mixed with water. Kind of a moisture smell, with small pieces of sweet and salt, yeah the seaside that was what I felt. Out of the blue I saw a kid playing with a ball, he dribbled it and when he saw me he smiled and was about to tell me something, when a wind swept my legs. I began to fall. My arms turned into wings and I glided into a damped area. Everything felt great, except that my wings started to break. The pain of them bending backward was starting to get extreme. I pulled them againts the wind and could finally maintain and landed. When I looked down I was blinded by a razor sharp light, something so strong that almost made me wishing I was blind. Again I closed my eyes and the light faded out. I was just about to open my eyes when a door slammed so loud that I thought my ears was about to pop out! -Then I woke up and pushed the snooze button.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-114435560580548438?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/114435560580548438/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=114435560580548438' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/114435560580548438'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/114435560580548438'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2006/04/sweet-and-salt.html' title='Sweet and Salt'/><author><name>Starsinger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04418174307410767594</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-114582009788278838</id><published>2006-04-05T21:16:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-04-23T21:21:37.883+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Meeting the queen, ina yellow t shirt..</title><content type='html'>The queen was walking along a delegation in a bright yellow shirt. She seemed tired of it and I picked her out of the crowd and just walked in another direction. I was heading to a football practise. She even dared to participate in a game. And no one even recognised her, until my brother arrived. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another day I visited the palace in The Hague and was invited on the square. She gave us flowers, but didn't remember me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-114582009788278838?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/114582009788278838/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=114582009788278838' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/114582009788278838'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/114582009788278838'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2006/04/meeting-queen-ina-yellow-t-shirt.html' title='Meeting the queen, ina yellow t shirt..'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-114397802023461023</id><published>2006-04-01T13:28:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-04-02T13:40:20.260+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Sorry, I need my stuff !</title><content type='html'>I'm sleeping, when suddendly I get awoken by the door's bell ringing. I woke up, a bit dizzy, put over some clothes in order to look decent, and finaly open the entrance door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is a woman, in the late 20ies, saying "hi, may I enter ?". I ask her what she wants. She just reply she's here to collect all her stuff that is currently in my appartment. Stuff ? She has nothing here ! Then she just point with her finger to the sleeping room's door, showing in the corner a small plastic badge with the inscription "..... Hansen". And she say "Hansen is my name, I'm just taking back home all these things with my name on it. There are quite a few, but I have friends comming here helping me, don't worry, this will be fast !".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was too stunned to reply, I was just about to say I didn't wanted to gave her the bloody sleeping room door in the appartment I was paying a rent for... when I suddenly awoke due to the fact the door's bell was ringing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-114397802023461023?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/114397802023461023/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=114397802023461023' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/114397802023461023'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/114397802023461023'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2006/04/sorry-i-need-my-stuff.html' title='Sorry, I need my stuff !'/><author><name>Nattfolker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02405231735591501273</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-114398330788342413</id><published>2006-03-31T09:00:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-04-02T15:08:27.903+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Wonky pixels</title><content type='html'>I was walking in the city, looking at shops and other stuff like this when I suddenly noticed a very unusual small shop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This shop was full of very unusual things, and inside people wore kind of old clothes. The shopkeeper looks like he lived in middle age, and was wearing a kind of very large dress in crude fabric. What really attracted me was the fact there was a document talking about the art of pixeling. Being myself a pixeler I started to read it, when the shopkeeper arrived and asked me if I was pixeler, because then I could join their group. I said I was interested but then he said he need first to check if I am really what I claim I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He started to ask some questions, showing things in the document, when I suddenly noticed something wrong in it. "Hey, I know this program, -crackart-, I used it a lot but the screnshot here is not of crackart, it’s totally unrelated !", he looked at me weirdly, and said "It’s not what I asked you, I need to know if you know what pixeling is all about.", on that I replied that crackart was my tool of choice, it’s why I know it so well, because he had a lot of cool features like showing or removing the grid in zoomed mode, allowing for a very sharp work when doing smoothing or manual anti-aliasing. On these words his eyes highlighted and he said that right, I obviously know about it all, there were no need to check my skills any further, he would add me on the guild rooster as soon as he would be done correcting the error I found in the document.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He then corrected the page, and started to update a "what’s new " page, explaining what was wrong… when things started to be weird. When typing all that he kept moving strangely, started to scratch himself like if he was itching on all his body. At the same time other people in the shop started to strip themselves, and get close ones with the others. And then the guild master finished his text by putting photos of himself in gruesome situation while doing weird things… starting to feel that I better have to leave, I started back tracking when I noticed it was not a shop anymore, but more like a decorated cave with people doing all kind of perverted and weird thingies all around me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was running as fast as I can in the never ending tunnels when I suddenly awoke.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-114398330788342413?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/114398330788342413/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=114398330788342413' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/114398330788342413'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/114398330788342413'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2006/03/wonky-pixels.html' title='Wonky pixels'/><author><name>Nattfolker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02405231735591501273</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-114372877439001467</id><published>2006-03-30T16:24:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-03-30T16:26:14.413+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Talking cat</title><content type='html'>I was at my grandparents house, upstairs. Together with a cousin I was doing something on the computer, when my cat jumped on the computer. I told her to get down, and she jumped to the window, which was open. It looked very much like she was going to fall out the window, so I told her to get back in here.  Then she fell out the window..   I rushed to the window, and saw 2 horses standing down there.  They jumped up and nearly stuck their heads in the window.  I ran downstairs to find my cat.  She was outside the door, with one rear leg in a different color. I asked are you hurt, and she replied she thinks that her leg is broken.  I picked her up and went inside.  The house was full of the whole family. My mom was preparing dinner. I sat in a chair with my cat on the lap. She was hurt, but I wasn’t sure if the leg was broken or not.  I moved the leg back and forth, and she didn’t seem to be in any pain.  She said she landed on the horses, then fell down. It was nice sitting there with her in my lap, considering it’s 8 years ago I had her.. Then she jumped off and went somewhere else..  A girl aged around 3-4 came to me and sat on my lap. She must have been one of my cousins kids.  I sat with her for a while, and then my cat came back and sat with us. Nice..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-114372877439001467?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/114372877439001467/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=114372877439001467' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/114372877439001467'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/114372877439001467'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2006/03/talking-cat.html' title='Talking cat'/><author><name>zz</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-114581959315754333</id><published>2006-03-25T21:06:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-04-23T21:13:13.156+02:00</updated><title type='text'>In a bungalow park</title><content type='html'>I had a relative in law that had a brother in Norway. We were in a bungalow park together, next to a pond and a bridge. We planned to pick him up at the airport. The she heard he died. She got emotion when she said she'll live in Sweden and look after his vacation house. She would leave the upcoming Saturday. I planned to go there in a month on vacation. &lt;br /&gt;I grabbed a fishing net, laying near me and tried to catch some fish. &lt;br /&gt;Another guy was fishing there as well.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-114581959315754333?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/114581959315754333/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=114581959315754333' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/114581959315754333'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/114581959315754333'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2006/03/in-bungalow-park.html' title='In a bungalow park'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-114309035686773629</id><published>2006-03-23T06:03:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-03-23T06:05:56.886+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Erotic Star Wars</title><content type='html'>I was on the way to a night out with some friends, and we wanted to get something to eat.&lt;br /&gt;It was 20:45 as we walked by a cinema where they were showing a new Star Wars movie,&lt;br /&gt;And we figured we could go see that, and then have time to find something to eat afterwards.&lt;br /&gt;So we went in.  I was coming from another dream, and had just walked down the street in&lt;br /&gt;that one. Inside the theater in the left upper corner were some guys that I think I knew from&lt;br /&gt;my IT school, and I talked a bit with them before the movie started.  I went and sat down&lt;br /&gt;near the ending row, in the middle, with some friends behind me. Present was also Lissie,&lt;br /&gt;Mette’s mother, and Lis, my dad’s old girlfriend.  Then the movie started.  For the next&lt;br /&gt;1.5 hours we watched an episode of Star Wars, that has not and will never be seen by anyone&lt;br /&gt;else..  I don’t remember much of it, only that it was at a hight when there was an intermission&lt;br /&gt;after the 1.5 hours.  It was supposed to go on 15 minutes later.  In the break I went down to&lt;br /&gt;talk with my old classmates again, and some other people. Then I returned to my seat.&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly I got the idea to start swapping pictures and postcards etc.  I don’t know where&lt;br /&gt;all these came from, but it wasn’t long before everybody in the whole theater were swapping&lt;br /&gt;posters and newspapers etc.  I thought, that I should have brought copies of my CD, so I could&lt;br /&gt;spread it like this.  Lis then handed me some newspapers with half naked girls in them. They&lt;br /&gt;all had some form of body painting on them.  I liked them, so I took 2 of them.  The movie&lt;br /&gt;was about to start again, but nothing happened. Some time went by, and some employees&lt;br /&gt;of the theater came and asked who had distributed porn.  I quickly tucked away my newspapers,&lt;br /&gt;and clearly didn’t wanna get caught in the act.  Lis then said it was her who had brought them.&lt;br /&gt;Soon after this, parts of the theater had turned into small swimming pools, and people were put&lt;br /&gt;In them to be punished for swapping porn. Some guy was pushed around in the pool, with a large&lt;br /&gt;pole. He was almost drowning.  Anyhow, we never got to see the rest of the movie it seemed.&lt;br /&gt;I asked Lis what time it was, and she said 5 in the morning.  Then at some point, I had enough and&lt;br /&gt;Walked to the exit.  There was a road, I followed it.  Didn’t know where it was leading though..&lt;br /&gt;I came to a T crossing, and on the other side of the road was a girl my age.  I recognized her, but&lt;br /&gt;I don’t know from where.  She walked over to me, and as she did, the weirdest things happened.&lt;br /&gt;The whole street changed, and she too.  She became about 20 years older, slowly as an animation.&lt;br /&gt;But she was still beautiful.  I walked with her, and then I saw her walking with another girl.&lt;br /&gt;Then I woke up.   As I looked on the clock, I saw that it was now 5:05.   That’s odd..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-114309035686773629?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/114309035686773629/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=114309035686773629' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/114309035686773629'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/114309035686773629'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2006/03/erotic-star-wars.html' title='Erotic Star Wars'/><author><name>zz</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-114581776623510537</id><published>2006-03-21T20:34:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-04-23T21:02:22.603+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Our island threatened</title><content type='html'>I lived on a peaceful small island. The weather report said there might be a tsunami coming. We all stacked up food and wares. When the storm was nigh, several people gathered on the west coast to try and stop the water as a human shield. The religious went to a nearby cave and prayed. Several men drowned trying to stop the rising water. Then all of a sudden the sky cleared and it stopped.&lt;br /&gt;We were all extremely happy. I searched for my friends and found all but one. I found him in a town  diningplace somewhere and he was not really excited to see me.  Soon he disappeared from my view and then I found him again. He was standing in a crowd looking at something. Then I left him alone, because I knew he was trying to avoid me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-114581776623510537?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/114581776623510537/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=114581776623510537' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/114581776623510537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/114581776623510537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2006/03/our-island-threatened.html' title='Our island threatened'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-114267430130245776</id><published>2006-03-18T10:10:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-03-18T10:31:41.326+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Norway</title><content type='html'>I traveled to Norway with my sis and a bunch of sceners traveled along until just across the Swedish border. We stayed in a youth hostel very near a train station because the others would travel back again the next day. The next morning at 8.AM I didn't see them anywhere... It seemed that they had left real early though we were all still awake till 3 the night before. I was rather disappointed they didn't even say goodbye and also started wondering how to get my sis so far that she wanted to do some hiking, instead of just walking in towns.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-114267430130245776?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/114267430130245776/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=114267430130245776' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/114267430130245776'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/114267430130245776'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2006/03/norway.html' title='Norway'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-114267492270753481</id><published>2006-03-16T10:34:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-03-18T10:42:02.706+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Bloody scene in flat</title><content type='html'>Some bad scene had happened in the hallway of a flat. There was blood all over the stairs, yet no one had striken alarm howerver. I asked the people near the blood if thid was a prank that was being pulled. No one answered. Then they started talked to eachother and I felt the situation change for the worst. I started to run, they started to follow.  I ran up to another appeartment complex and entered a house there and hid in the attic.  I saw my cat crawling up through the small opening of the hatch I couldn't close off fully. I wanted to help him in, but then realised it could be one of the people that followed me that has changed himself to the appearance of my cat.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-114267492270753481?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/114267492270753481/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=114267492270753481' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/114267492270753481'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/114267492270753481'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2006/03/bloody-scene-in-flat.html' title='Bloody scene in flat'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-114267644033237961</id><published>2006-03-15T10:43:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-03-18T11:07:20.356+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Small meeting</title><content type='html'>There was a small meeting at my house. It was friday evening and there were a few Germans present. The bell rang and it was the Swedish posse. I realized I forgot to get drinks so I planned to go to the store to get some. I needed to change into something else and so I changed quickly under the sheets in my bed while Joakim sat next to my bed telling me about the trip there. &lt;br /&gt;I walked to the Nettorama to get Cola and beer. They didn't have Coca Cola, so I visited the nearby Edah. It was being rebuilt and everything was unordered. A staff member helped me to find it eventually. I stored everything in a big shopping bag and wondered what I was supposed to do with the drink-container given by a guest. I didn't want to insult the guy so I brought it along anyway. When I came back home a guy from Czech said he already had to leave. He had a long trip back and      &lt;br /&gt;needed to be home the next day. I let him out and wished him a  good trip and showed the rest the sleeping room.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-114267644033237961?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/114267644033237961/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=114267644033237961' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/114267644033237961'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/114267644033237961'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2006/03/small-meeting.html' title='Small meeting'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-114219903837533469</id><published>2006-03-12T22:25:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-03-12T22:30:38.396+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Amsterdam</title><content type='html'>I walked through Amsterdam, looking for a swimming pool. I passed Ben's house and decided to drop in. He seemed to have company and I felt like a crowd. I was asked by a visitor to come by another day.He seemed very annoyed. In the hallway I saw an RPG book. It seemed that one of the visitors was the translator, as he admitted it. Then he showed me out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-114219903837533469?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/114219903837533469/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=114219903837533469' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/114219903837533469'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/114219903837533469'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2006/03/amsterdam.html' title='Amsterdam'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-114220015664649555</id><published>2006-03-11T22:42:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-03-12T22:49:16.646+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Another visit to the fleamarket</title><content type='html'>Went to the Saturday flea market, looking for a NES. I didn't find one but saw some commodores lying around. A woman made up a price and so I bought 2 commodores, a C128 and a c112. I went to irc to check after the rarity of the computers. For some reason I couldn't go to irc on my work-pc so I used an old IBM machine, trying the regular commands, forgetting it doesn't run linux.&lt;br /&gt;I entered my computer room with the actual owner of the commodores. He was very amazed that people still collected them like I did and he looked at my dusty piles of old homecomputers sticking out of the openened closets.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-114220015664649555?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/114220015664649555/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=114220015664649555' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/114220015664649555'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/114220015664649555'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2006/03/another-visit-to-fleamarket.html' title='Another visit to the fleamarket'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-114219963097263806</id><published>2006-03-08T22:33:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-03-12T22:40:30.973+01:00</updated><title type='text'>cafe booking</title><content type='html'>I went into a cafe around the corner from where I live. It seemed like it was the cafe Roland often visited after work. They also had a travel agency inside. And a sauna with private bubble baths..&lt;br /&gt;I first informed after the possibilities. There was a hall with a high ceiling to the right of me. It should give a vibe of the several kind of vacations I could book. There were large posters on the wall featuring shadows of several tree kinds. It was creepy and pleasant at the same time. My sis wanted me to hurry, because she wanted to book herself and she already knew precisely where to fly to.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-114219963097263806?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/114219963097263806/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=114219963097263806' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/114219963097263806'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/114219963097263806'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2006/03/cafe-booking.html' title='cafe booking'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-114175925783661679</id><published>2006-03-07T20:13:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-03-07T20:20:57.836+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Eating chinese | Götaland</title><content type='html'>We went to a chinese restaurant with a group, on our travels through Sweden. &lt;br /&gt;I, at first, wasn't up for any Chinese food, because I remembered how bad it often was, when it came to taste. Then as they had their order, it looked and smelled quite tasteful. So I ordered a vegetarian dish. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was on my way to a small region somewhere in Götaland.  I needed to change trains or take a bus. I got out of the train and was on a very old looking trainstation. I looked up the train times and jumped up the stairs towards the busses. I just missed one. Some others missed it to and I joked about it to a woman.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-114175925783661679?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/114175925783661679/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=114175925783661679' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/114175925783661679'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/114175925783661679'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2006/03/eating-chinese-gtaland.html' title='Eating chinese | Götaland'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-114175809613515673</id><published>2006-02-26T19:46:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-03-07T20:22:18.326+01:00</updated><title type='text'>The house of the big family</title><content type='html'>I visited a house of a family of 10 kids. They lived in a big mansion on the countryside. Downstairs , the hostess's husband played a strange self made instrument. It produced synth like noises. It existed of the neck of a flute, a piccolo, a part of the saxophone and it has some keyboard keys made out of bamboo. Those looked hollow like a panflute. Next to those was some covered with velvet part.  After the man left the room , I tried playing the instrument, as I could never resist these things.&lt;br /&gt; After this I was shown the rest of the house. On my way back to the hallway, I noticed a sidchip, lying about in a wooden open closet. My curiosity awoke, and I asked if they had any more c64 items.  She said that we might stumble upon some when browsing the house. Unfortunately I saw nothing else but porn, when one of the sons looked through his belongings to see if there was anything nice left.&lt;br /&gt;One of the other older brothers was on a vacation to China. On the top floor there was a huge door that could be opened, but there  was no ground behind it. I carefully opened it and looked outside: 2 young kids were swinging on 5 meter long black curtains, that hung to dry at the opening I looked through.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-114175809613515673?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/114175809613515673/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=114175809613515673' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/114175809613515673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/114175809613515673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2006/02/house-of-big-family.html' title='The house of the big family'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-114096761467695416</id><published>2006-02-24T16:13:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-02-26T16:26:54.700+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Attacked Under Spells</title><content type='html'>I was about 20 metres from a central station, waiting for a friend to show up.&lt;br /&gt;I felt rather uncomfortable, with the few people I saw appearing to be up to no good.&lt;br /&gt;Then a man wearing a black balaclavas came up to the bench I sat on and started to threaten me with a gun. I struggled with him and managed to make him drop the gun and I ran. But then he gained on me and we struggled again. Then he started to make incantations and I was hit by something. She kept repeating it and I covered her mouth. But she could make incantations without even saying the words.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-114096761467695416?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/114096761467695416/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=114096761467695416' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/114096761467695416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/114096761467695416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2006/02/attacked-under-spells.html' title='Attacked Under Spells'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-114052569283819171</id><published>2006-02-20T13:34:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-02-21T13:41:32.853+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Feeding the Dolphin</title><content type='html'>I passed a bridge on some dutch farmlands. I noticed several dead and torn fish laying on or near the other side. I went over to take a closer look. I thought it was either a very hungry animal, or some cruel fisherman. I grabbed one of the recently dead looking fish of the grass, looked up again and saw a " pointy nose"**  dolphin "smiling" at me, standing on his fluke and chewing on a fish like a cow. I gave him the fish I was holding and he ate it. He jumped back into the water immediately afterwards and I stared at him. I thought "whatever" and grabbed another fish. He jumped out of the water and stood in front of me on his fluke in no time again.. I fed him another fish. And so it went on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**/ sorry, I do not know the proper name of that race&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-114052569283819171?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/114052569283819171/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=114052569283819171' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/114052569283819171'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/114052569283819171'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2006/02/feeding-dolphin.html' title='Feeding the Dolphin'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-114026518657526642</id><published>2006-02-18T13:12:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-02-18T13:19:47.543+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Poisenous Blobs</title><content type='html'>My folks had a Asian restaurant and Toko in one is a busy shopping mall in town.&lt;br /&gt;I went by in the evenings and found green blobs floating around. They were poisenous I knew.&lt;br /&gt;My folks and friends saw them as well and went hunting to destroy them. Meanwhile the store was left unattended. I saw customers taking their stuff to the cash register and waiting. I decided to have em pay and leave to I could close the store , but the blobs were floating around inside too. I also noticed people being almost in front of the register, before I got there and I wondered if they had stolen any money.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-114026518657526642?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/114026518657526642/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=114026518657526642' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/114026518657526642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/114026518657526642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2006/02/poisenous-blobs.html' title='Poisenous Blobs'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-113951882011231907</id><published>2006-02-09T21:56:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-02-09T22:00:20.150+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Forest almost died</title><content type='html'>Something happened to him. I held him in my arms and he looked lifeless. His fur seemed rather stiff and his eyes rolled back.. I noticed he was still breathing slightly. I poured some milk into his mouth and hugged him and hoped for the best. He slowly started to recover and was back to normal quite soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-113951882011231907?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/113951882011231907/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=113951882011231907' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113951882011231907'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113951882011231907'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2006/02/forest-almost-died.html' title='Forest almost died'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-113933268948896812</id><published>2006-02-07T17:25:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-02-07T18:18:09.530+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Falling down from a tree</title><content type='html'>The family was in a camping place in an old forest with high pine trees. My sis saw that there were cats luring at a bird's nest, over 5 metres from the ground. She climbed in and tried to protect them. She held her hand in front of a cat's head, leaned forward, lost her balance and fell down, head down..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-113933268948896812?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/113933268948896812/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=113933268948896812' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113933268948896812'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113933268948896812'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2006/02/falling-down-from-tree.html' title='Falling down from a tree'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-113920986673928050</id><published>2006-02-06T08:05:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-02-06T08:11:06.760+01:00</updated><title type='text'>A burglar at night</title><content type='html'>It was around 23:00. I woke up thinking about the security in the house and I wondered if the corner door to the balcony had an alarm on it.  As I went there to check if it was locked as well as closed I saw that there was someone standig in front of it. It was very dark inside so I guess that was why he didn't see me. Then I noticed he stood in front of the window and held up a balcony chair, or something to smash open the window. . My heart was pounding loud and rather panicked I grabbed for my phone of which I was aware, resided in my pocket. I just hoped he couldn't see the yellow light up as I called 112..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-113920986673928050?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/113920986673928050/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=113920986673928050' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113920986673928050'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113920986673928050'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2006/02/burglar-at-night.html' title='A burglar at night'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-113905476740862872</id><published>2006-02-04T12:37:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-02-04T13:06:07.553+01:00</updated><title type='text'>3 short dreams</title><content type='html'>There was a brass band going through my town. The singer had such a high pitched soud, that it wzas annoying. I looked through the luxaflex and saw many families waiting to view the band, and whatever would follow. It was late in the evening in mid-town, near the cafe's. I decided to walk home. I saw many football fans that had gathered there but they seemed not loud at all. &lt;br /&gt;~&lt;br /&gt;I went to get my bicyle at Mark's house. People still seemed to want to break in to the downstairs basements, luckily my bicycle was stil there. The trip back was rather long, so I stayed over for the night. I wondered if he wanted to try something funky with me, but I was well determined not to start that again. I could almost feel his hope though, while he was asleep.&lt;br /&gt;~&lt;br /&gt;My mom found a guy who wanted to trade houses. He first called me and I had no idea who he was.&lt;br /&gt;I conformed I wanted to move to Sweden and wanted to trade houses. Then the next day he came by and he said he found a buyer for his house and he wanted to buy my house ASAP. However I thought to trade houses, but as long as my house was sold , I could at least invest it in renting a house there first. I was very happy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-113905476740862872?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/113905476740862872/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=113905476740862872' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113905476740862872'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113905476740862872'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2006/02/3-short-dreams.html' title='3 short dreams'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-113914342203900608</id><published>2006-02-03T13:37:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-02-05T13:45:21.466+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Vacation</title><content type='html'>I was on a holiday with colleagues in Sweden. They stayed in the same camping for 2 weeks, but I left this one after 3 days. I went to another camping with my bicycle.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-113914342203900608?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/113914342203900608/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=113914342203900608' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113914342203900608'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113914342203900608'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2006/02/vacation.html' title='Vacation'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-113914295327806199</id><published>2006-01-31T13:21:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-02-05T13:35:53.303+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Flying Ants / captured siblings / crazy driver</title><content type='html'>There were hundreds of flying ants coming from the foot of my bed when I woke up. In other places in  &lt;br /&gt;my bedroom I found ants making a nest. I got a substance from a guy that said if I'd use it, I'd be able to flee out of my room.  &lt;br /&gt;~ &lt;br /&gt;My sister and brother were captured. The house was lit on fire on purpose from the attached barn. &lt;br /&gt;I went inside the house and heard them . When I took the stairs up I noticed they were chatting with each other, like nothing was going on.&lt;br /&gt;~&lt;br /&gt;I took the train, and then the bus. When getting into the bus, I already noticed a funny thing about the driver. Then as he started to drive, I was frightened by the speed and recklessness. I jumped out of the bus near a crop field. I saw a scarecrow with a suit and I changed into that superhero suit and flew off. But first I took a note of the farmer's phonenumber which was written on a pole, advertising for the crops. This was to return the suit later on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-113914295327806199?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/113914295327806199/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=113914295327806199' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113914295327806199'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113914295327806199'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2006/01/flying-ants-captured-siblings-crazy.html' title='Flying Ants / captured siblings / crazy driver'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-113914153956609285</id><published>2006-01-30T13:08:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-02-05T13:55:20.656+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Busticket</title><content type='html'>I took the bus after having bought a multiday unlimited ticket. It looked like a regular card which needed stamps , but then I noticed the parts were devided into small stickers. I went up from the train arrival area and sought after the bus. Tony also wasn't sure of how to use it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-113914153956609285?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/113914153956609285/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=113914153956609285' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113914153956609285'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113914153956609285'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2006/01/busticket.html' title='Busticket'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-113914622569386901</id><published>2006-01-29T14:25:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-02-05T14:30:25.693+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Tony went religious</title><content type='html'>I met Tony in a new built part of town. He was inside a post office when I went by. I saw that his arm was badly injured and was very concerned about this matter. However, he acted normal and was surprised to see me. A fellow believer of his was there in the back of the line as well. His wrist missed flesh till down to the bone and there was more flesh missing from his lower arm.  He acted drunk and said god made sure he didn't feel any pain. Tony agreed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-113914622569386901?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/113914622569386901/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=113914622569386901' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113914622569386901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113914622569386901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2006/01/tony-went-religious.html' title='Tony went religious'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-113914207895168968</id><published>2006-01-24T13:12:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-02-05T13:21:18.950+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Bint and his bad music taste</title><content type='html'>Bint and I and a group of hid friends were at some outdoor party . There were several popular Dj's playing. This trance dance thing really bored me, but Bint seemed to have the time of his life.&lt;br /&gt;I saw some oldskool hip hop group pass by and they made some great moves to the music that came out of their ghettoblaster. I saw them perform breakdance tricks later on stage.. Bint was unimpressed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-113914207895168968?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/113914207895168968/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=113914207895168968' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113914207895168968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113914207895168968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2006/01/bint-and-his-bad-music-taste.html' title='Bint and his bad music taste'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-113804185307293531</id><published>2006-01-23T19:37:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-01-23T19:44:13.096+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Cave Habitat</title><content type='html'>I was heading by train to somewhere in Sweden. Then I had to continue by car. My dad picked me up and we drove on. He was unfamiliar with the roads and we ended up being lost. We were on a small road and he saw no way of turning the car but to go down a steep edge. &lt;br /&gt;As we got out, stretching our legs, we noticed a small cave near the road. We went in to find shelter against the rain. Shivering we hoped to get dry soon. Then we saw about 5 seniors entering the cave. The people, dressed as like they were on vacation, opened a hidden door and entered a warm house. They completely ignored us and we looked at eachother wonder how this could be..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-113804185307293531?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/113804185307293531/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=113804185307293531' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113804185307293531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113804185307293531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2006/01/cave-habitat.html' title='Cave Habitat'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-113796757099744304</id><published>2006-01-20T22:53:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-01-22T23:06:11.010+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Little brother missing</title><content type='html'>I visited a relaxation house in Iceland and remembered to check out the finnish sauna.&lt;br /&gt;Later home I went looking for my 4 year old brother upstairs, but he was missing from his bed. I was afraid someone had kidnapped him. I didn't fully trust the babysitter, and wondered if they went off somewhere. I first searched in the nearby streets, where I heard a Rastafarian speak about also have lost his child. I decided to go to the big park to search for a while. On my way to the park, I passed the house of my mother and so I visited her as well, having dinner there.&lt;br /&gt;As I went into the house, a guy entered the house with me. Apparently she got remarried to some guy I never met before. We were disturbed at dinner by someone on the phone who asked if we wouldn't come to church. As I replied negative, she said that our seats were reserved so we have to pay anyway..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-113796757099744304?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/113796757099744304/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=113796757099744304' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113796757099744304'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113796757099744304'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2006/01/little-brother-missing.html' title='Little brother missing'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-113796664680182288</id><published>2006-01-13T22:38:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-01-22T22:50:46.840+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Going for a swim in the big swimmmingpool</title><content type='html'>I woke up by my annoying buzzing alarm clock. We decided to go swimming. Someone's gf wanted to borrow one of my spare shirts. The dressing rooms where absent and we had to use the toilet space to get changed. The toilets were also real dirty at that..  &lt;br /&gt;I took a dive into the pool will my shirt and pants on. At first I was the only one in the pool, then slowly more folk gathered. It was a surprise visit to the pool to most of my friends brought there, so most forgot their swimming suit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-113796664680182288?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/113796664680182288/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=113796664680182288' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113796664680182288'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113796664680182288'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2006/01/going-for-swim-in-big-swimmmingpool.html' title='Going for a swim in the big swimmmingpool'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-113699172264891528</id><published>2006-01-11T15:28:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-01-11T16:02:02.673+01:00</updated><title type='text'>On the run</title><content type='html'>I visited the tattoo shop, just to look around. Then I got the idea that I actually want to remove mine and went searching for something to hold it with, so I could screw off the end. I actually saw no one there so I went away. Then I visited another store, but they had rings mostly and I went to the weekly market. &lt;br /&gt;Someone else was with me and I went to his house, there was something in the air that told us that we had to get off the street. So in his apartment, somewhere on the 19th floor we looked down and around from the window on the balcony side. We saw nothing but felt danger. He hid somewhere near the window. I hid in another corner under a brown blanket. There was a dark shadow passing the window. And something else entered the house, by not even opening the door. A horned dark man pulled the blanket off me and yelled at me. That it was foolish that I thought we could hide from him. I was very frightened, but would never give into having him steal my ability to sometimes, fly. &lt;br /&gt;Another creature took away my friend and I screamed.  I ran past the horned creature and went to the balcony, which the other creature deformed. It now ran down like a slide, though it was only 20 meters long and it would be a long jump. &lt;br /&gt;In my fear I could not fly away, but I had no other choice but to run down. He followed me down and I climbed onto someone else's balcony.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-113699172264891528?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/113699172264891528/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=113699172264891528' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113699172264891528'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113699172264891528'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2006/01/on-run.html' title='On the run'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-113673066833922268</id><published>2006-01-08T14:43:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-01-08T15:31:08.366+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Another train trip</title><content type='html'>I wanted to see something new, so I took the train from Malmö to Oslo, to only stay there for a few hours and then go back.&lt;br /&gt;I wasn't sure on which platform the train would come, but one was about to leave, so I jumped in.&lt;br /&gt;After about two stops with town names, I could not place at all, I decided to step out for a minute and stretch my legs. I ran back in as the train was about to leave.&lt;br /&gt;On the place I sat, where two giggling teens... I did not see my belongings anywhere. I looked for them in the seats in front, but I found nothing. I asked them if they had seen my stuff and pointed to them... My bagpack was gone and my bag's content was all over. I gave them a hateful look and collected everything.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-113673066833922268?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/113673066833922268/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=113673066833922268' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113673066833922268'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113673066833922268'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2006/01/another-train-trip.html' title='Another train trip'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-113673494916990154</id><published>2006-01-07T16:02:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-01-08T16:42:29.186+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Time travelling</title><content type='html'>About 9 others and I ran through town, looking for a way to escape danger..&lt;br /&gt;We ended up trapped in a dead-end street. One guy, an computer nerd I knew, said that there was a warp point nearby. He pointed to the chinese dragon head and said the gate could be opened by farting at the head. I became pissed of as I felt it wasn't time for joking. Then we all stood in a circle and held hands. He repeated himself and someone actually did it. &lt;br /&gt;There was steam coming out of the dragon head and a black hole with a swirl of light was seen. The nerd got angry at me for not believing him and really threw that in my face several times. &lt;br /&gt;Then other people of the group jumped through. I was one of the last to go.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-113673494916990154?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/113673494916990154/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=113673494916990154' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113673494916990154'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113673494916990154'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2006/01/time-travelling.html' title='Time travelling'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-113639117619982398</id><published>2006-01-01T16:46:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-01-04T17:12:56.213+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Musical day at the Mall</title><content type='html'>A music shop had a open day where you could play several instruments.&lt;br /&gt;I played some Piano and I got some people listening. I managed to use both hands and play something  nice. Then I started to make many mistakes and looked around for another instrument to play. I saw a violin amongst others, which had a real good play, so I played the violin.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-113639117619982398?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/113639117619982398/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=113639117619982398' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113639117619982398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113639117619982398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2006/01/musical-day-at-mall.html' title='Musical day at the Mall'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-113466969625075855</id><published>2005-12-15T18:45:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2005-12-15T19:01:36.293+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Storage</title><content type='html'>I was at the neighbour's house across the street, when I was called as my mom wanted to talk to me on the phone. She asked me if I wanted to store some old stuff in boxes in my house. I immediately said no, knowing she'd probablt never pick them up and they'd be many and full of useless things she doesn't need and never used. I immediately felt sorry for my stepdad as she probably was on a tour of buying even more of that nonsense. I hung up and a few minutes later was called again. This time it was my father whom asked for her if she could store them at my place. I refused again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-113466969625075855?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/113466969625075855/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=113466969625075855' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113466969625075855'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113466969625075855'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/12/storage.html' title='Storage'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-113466870507132833</id><published>2005-12-14T18:34:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2005-12-15T18:45:30.370+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Visiting Juliette</title><content type='html'>I visted Juliette and her boyfriend in Haarlem, Australia.&lt;br /&gt;They bought a "fix em upper"mid-size wooden house there and were busy getting the dust off the walls. There was no electricy or water yet either.   &lt;br /&gt;There were tiny dark kangaroo shaped creatures sticking on the walls. They jumped away too fast to study them carefully..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-113466870507132833?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/113466870507132833/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=113466870507132833' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113466870507132833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113466870507132833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/12/visiting-juliette.html' title='Visiting Juliette'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-113415928133225840</id><published>2005-12-09T21:03:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2005-12-09T21:14:41.346+01:00</updated><title type='text'>The Town Square</title><content type='html'>I was visiting a new town. I saw a guy standing outside a cafe. He was naked, lifted one leg and just took a shit in the busy town-square in broad daylight. The gruesome thin diarrhea was floating over the sidewalk and no one even turned their heads. I was amazed...&lt;br /&gt;Doeschka and I noticed my brother was suddenly gone. We looked behind and around us and Doeschka stood on the road to try and see if he was there in the distance. A slow driving car hit her, with no meaning to try and avoid her. She slipped off the front of the car and layed there, where 2 seconds later another black car hit her. When the third and fourth car hit her, she was laying there lifeless, her body in a limp broken state.. I froze in horror and then saw my brother's girlfriend walking by with the babywagon.. She said that he just went to a store and got behind.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-113415928133225840?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/113415928133225840/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=113415928133225840' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113415928133225840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113415928133225840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/12/town-square.html' title='The Town Square'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-113416171839318847</id><published>2005-12-08T21:15:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2005-12-09T21:55:18.406+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Rock Concert</title><content type='html'>After the show was over I was totally excited and playing air guitar... I was running up and down the almost empty hall, acting nuts when I noticed Skyhawk and Dino sitting on stage talking to eachother. I stopped my lameness and went over to shake hands. Dino gave me a hug, which was unexpected. We talked a little and I asked if they wanted to speak swedish with me and I took out the swedish book that I always have with me. They we're too enthousiastic and I decided to take a hike.&lt;br /&gt; I walked through the building and I thought I saw Sander, Ben and TDJ in the dressingroom entrance. Tdj ensured me this was surely not another group meeting I stumbled across and I saw the other two just looked like them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-113416171839318847?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/113416171839318847/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=113416171839318847' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113416171839318847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113416171839318847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/12/rock-concert.html' title='Rock Concert'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-113369900810636505</id><published>2005-12-04T13:10:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2005-12-04T13:23:28.240+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Buy another Commodore</title><content type='html'>I reacted on an advertisement where two C= where for sale. Arriving at the apartment, 2 streets away from my ex's house I found out that we took classes together. They are the 2 annoying guys that &lt;br /&gt;kept making jokes through all the lessons. Later I also found out that one of them was a well known Dutch scener.&lt;br /&gt;Me and my brother were invited in where also a girlfriend was seated. The room was really messy. I could see many old computers laying around. I realized forgot to bring money, and thought of quickly getting some from the bank when I saw my brother was also about to leave for that. They told him to  get some, each hour a little. Ofcourse this was so they thought they could have me buy more systems than I came to get and I told them I didn' t think that plan was funny.. The woman sitting on the couch came with the intelligent comment that I needed to have all the machines as a help to finish my studies; I wouldn' t make it through the exams without them. I made clear to her that I wasn't a   &lt;br /&gt;newbie when it came to computers, nor so naive that I'd believe that crap.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-113369900810636505?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/113369900810636505/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=113369900810636505' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113369900810636505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113369900810636505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/12/buy-another-commodore.html' title='Buy another Commodore'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-113338756121185826</id><published>2005-11-30T22:47:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2005-11-30T22:52:41.213+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Memories of my Childhood</title><content type='html'>I went to a middle sized supermarket on my favorite beach. There were turkish kids playing right in front of the entrance, above the entrance was also a arch shaped metal detector, which one kid sat on. I remembered them from since they were just 3 years old and watched them, smiling, realizing how fast they grew up, being about 7 years old now. An older lady walked in between them, entering the shop. She made a comment about them not properly speaking Swedish. They spoke back to her in perfect Swedish. &lt;br /&gt;I remembered how people often did not think I could speak dutch when I was younger. I watched them play with their soccer ball more, when thinking that over.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-113338756121185826?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/113338756121185826/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=113338756121185826' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113338756121185826'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113338756121185826'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/11/memories-of-my-childhood.html' title='Memories of my Childhood'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-113338722437033045</id><published>2005-11-29T20:26:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2005-11-30T22:47:04.426+01:00</updated><title type='text'>The Royal Deceased</title><content type='html'>A middle aged woman collected items of royal families.&lt;br /&gt;She showed me 3 condoleance cards of names I never heard of..&lt;br /&gt;They kept their heritage sectret until in the grave, she told me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-113338722437033045?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/113338722437033045/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=113338722437033045' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113338722437033045'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113338722437033045'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/11/royal-deceased.html' title='The Royal Deceased'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-113278735853084557</id><published>2005-11-23T23:54:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2005-11-30T23:08:16.616+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Labile Ferhan</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;The dream was about Ferhan, my ex girlfriend, and me living in the remote future and we are still loving each other in that dream. In the future you can travel to other far dimensions. Ferhan has boulimia, like in reality, so I suggested her to travel to another dimension, so that maybe she can get healing there from someone. She reacted bitchy and labile, it hurts, but she starts traveling nevertheless. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;There is a photo from her. It is very real, like if the photo was completely real. I can touch and feel her hair on the photo. I pull out a stamp from her hair on the stamp. On the frontside of the stamp is a picture of Ferhan, and on the backside is a writing saying "Embalisme, schizophrenia", something in semi-french. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Ferhan returns from the far dimension and watched me sitting there with the stamp. She asks me what I am doing there, and she is still agitated. Then I ask her if she has cheated me on that other planet and in that far far dimension, whereon she answers that it's nothing of my business, sweet how she is. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I have a look at the stamp again, and there is no picture of her anymore upon it. It's now just a usual stamp... &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I hear a melody, like from a star which is far away. The melody is so wonderful that I got goose-bumps. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I wake up.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;This dream inspired me to compose a SID-Music on the C64. I submitted it to the SID Compo 5 at &lt;a href="http://www.c64.sk"&gt;www.c64.sk&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-113278735853084557?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/113278735853084557/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=113278735853084557' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113278735853084557'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113278735853084557'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/11/labile-ferhan.html' title='Labile Ferhan'/><author><name>Archangel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07981608179974915823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-113205747577361381</id><published>2005-11-15T12:59:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2005-11-15T13:24:35.820+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Bicycle ride, NES, playing the Violin</title><content type='html'>My sister and I were headig somewhere by bicycle. We were a bit lost. The bicycle path was gone and all that was left was a road that seemed to become a freeway soon. We decided to climb up a steep hill with our bicycles, all the way up was another busy road and trees were preventing us from going further up. There, as we turned around, we saw a 5 year old kid, playing on the balcony. We asked if we could get back down through his house as it would be easier than the steep way down. He was ok with it, but then his grandfather appeared, yelling at him. He seemed to completely ignore us. &lt;br /&gt;He went on about a NES game and had Duckhunt/Super Mario Bros 1- in his hands. He went back inside and we extended our necks: we saw this new big cartridge of Sony Playstation and he apparently modded it to fit it. We gasped. Then they both left the room. We decided to sneak in and get away.&lt;br /&gt;so we did; transforming our bicycles so small that it would fit into our pockets. Inside we noticed that the house was quite big. My sister stayed in the first room, while I went and see if they had left their appartment. I passed several rooms and then heard a lot of people talking. There was an upperclass party right outside the appartment. I was wearing appropriate clothing and had my violin in my hand. However I realised I was not that good so I turned on classic music instead. The sound was sublime. They seemed to think it was real and clapped for me after every tune.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-113205747577361381?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/113205747577361381/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=113205747577361381' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113205747577361381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113205747577361381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/11/bicycle-ride-nes-playing-violin.html' title='Bicycle ride, NES, playing the Violin'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-113180351930459248</id><published>2005-11-12T14:31:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2005-11-12T14:52:00.813+01:00</updated><title type='text'>My Birthday party</title><content type='html'>I was throwing a party as it was my birthday.&lt;br /&gt;I had a company take care of the food and drinks and people were enjoying themselves.&lt;br /&gt;I enjoyed the view of them, observing them from the second floor of my house, looking into the big grassfield that was my garden. I just felt uncomfortable around my data brothers, without the actual data being worked on. I went and just sat in between and got congratulated enthousiasticly, getting compliments about the whole settings. I did not like getting that much attention and I just went away into another part of the garden and flew around a little, playing with the wind.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-113180351930459248?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/113180351930459248/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=113180351930459248' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113180351930459248'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113180351930459248'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/11/my-birthday-party.html' title='My Birthday party'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-113180733824675323</id><published>2005-11-10T15:32:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2005-11-12T15:55:38.263+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Bad weather and the sportsfield</title><content type='html'>A couple of guy and I were on a sportsfield. I was flying around a little enjoying the big open space. Next to the sportsfield was savannah-like nature. I was going quite high and then saw the weather go bad. The wind was becoming quite strong and I was afraid to get sucked out of the atmosphere. I managed to get down to the ground and saw an airplane crash out of the sky. It probably was on it's way to the nearby airport. The increased darkened sky looked very frightening, apocalyptic almost. We feared a war... &lt;br /&gt;Next to the sportsfield was a signal tower for radio and tv, it was without power and we were sent to fix it, but the door wouldn't budge. A thunderstorm began. My friend said that we should be leaving before the highest point which we were standing in front of, would be hit. &lt;br /&gt; 3 seconds later the lightning struck and there was a very bright light and current going through me. I was still standing and my heart was over the edge. He asked me if I was ok. I felt burnt, was still holding on to the iron doorhandle and wondered how I survived this pain and situation. I looked down and said I was ok, but knew better..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-113180733824675323?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/113180733824675323/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=113180733824675323' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113180733824675323'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113180733824675323'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/11/bad-weather-and-sportsfield.html' title='Bad weather and the sportsfield'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-113180588883539303</id><published>2005-11-09T15:27:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2005-11-12T15:32:28.340+01:00</updated><title type='text'>the iron device</title><content type='html'>A chinese guy built an iron device and built it into my spine. &lt;br /&gt;It had parts externally sticking out for 15 cm. It was built to obstruct my movement.&lt;br /&gt;He warned me about that when I touched the device too much to try and remove it, it will turn into a time bomb and eventually explode.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;/* I found this piece of paper with the dream laying around, it is much older, but had no date */&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-113180588883539303?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/113180588883539303/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=113180588883539303' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113180588883539303'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113180588883539303'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/11/iron-device.html' title='the iron device'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-113129460481180390</id><published>2005-11-02T16:57:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2005-11-09T12:32:54.143+01:00</updated><title type='text'>House party at Khaled</title><content type='html'>Khaled gave a party at his house. There were about 10 guests. His mom was also there, as I found out after I caught her in the bathtub while I was using the toilet..&lt;br /&gt;I was embarrassed and apologized. It was Friday. I still had to finish my compo entry, but I had no c64 with me and others whom I could buy it from were watching a film and I didn't want to disturb them. I went downstairs. The place was quite dark and I thought of adding a bit more light. Then I  &lt;br /&gt;saw Mark sitting there with his head on the table. I walked by and was shocked as I didn't expect him in Sweden. I went to Murdock and asked him if he knew how Mark was doing as he would surely not talk to me. Mark overheard. He grabbed his stuff and went away, his spirit soaked with depression.&lt;br /&gt;I quickly followed, being afraid of him going to kill himself, I asked him if he wanted to speak with me. He replied that he cannot handle it and drove away in his car.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-113129460481180390?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/113129460481180390/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=113129460481180390' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113129460481180390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113129460481180390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/11/house-party-at-khaled.html' title='House party at Khaled'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-113129736471786864</id><published>2005-10-30T17:35:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-05-21T11:13:38.726+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Again a dataparty</title><content type='html'>When I arrived I first noticed that my stepfather was also there. That controlling behavior pissed me off. I spoke to Sander who I met in one of the big sleeping tents, when I was putting away my belongings. Sander told me my pants looked weird on me. I wondered why he cared, but I looked down and agreed it was a tad too happy for my taste. I forgot to bring anything spare with me as well. I went out to find some non-mint colored pants in a local shop, but they did not have any clothing. I set up my little tent in the tent for some privacy while sleeping, but it was removed by one of the organizers while I spoke to Sander. I went outside and looked into the several themed tents. They were just full of commercial nonsense from the sponsors that I didn't care about.&lt;br /&gt;  One tent was open in two ways. It led outside the partyground in a middle section of stone in a small artificially made pond. I walked over it, with water surrounding me. Two kids were playing in front of me.  It felt relaxing as I saw almost no one in town and I saw the big white tower from this spot. I suddenly became very exited: I giggled like a child and ran and jumped, then I walked along as the path seemed to make a turn and was leading back into the party ground. The solid path became loose rocks and the path became slippery. I noticed the kids had turned into kittens jumping from rock to rock. The water increasingly deepened and had an orange glow to it on the bottom. The path became thinner and in the end there was nothing more than a small slippery spot to walk, that also had dangerous cracks. The stone seemed to have become limestone and the kittens were having a hard time not falling off. Then one made a bad estimation and fell in the deep hole filled with water. Someone else standing on steady ground raced ahead to help, he fell in as well. I was very grieved, but tried to concentrate to get the last kitty into safety, carrying it on my shoulder. I was very afraid of heights and moves on my hands and knees.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Once back to safety and releasing the kitten, thinking about how it's parents would grieve for it's sister, I went through the rest of the tents. In the main tent where there was some event going on I saw a couple of Swedes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-113129736471786864?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/113129736471786864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=113129736471786864' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113129736471786864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113129736471786864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/10/again-dataparty.html' title='Again a dataparty'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-113007733916649997</id><published>2005-10-21T16:00:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-10-23T16:22:19.173+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Lost bag</title><content type='html'>I traveled by train though Sweden. I noticed that I had lost my bag. I went to the lost and found department on the next station, which was easy to find thanks to the clear signs. They did not find my brown bag. I asked if it usually ended up on the lost and found dpt. On the final stop of the train, they said they had no idea. I took the same train on it's route back and searched. &lt;br /&gt;I saw two people with the same bag in the train, one was way emptier than mine, the other just as full. I looked at the guy  suspiciously. When he opened the bag to get something out, I looked inside from a distance. The man became angry and there was a bit of a scene going on.. When that was over I looked under the seats and found my missing bag. I was happy as a kid and apologized to the man.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-113007733916649997?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/113007733916649997/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=113007733916649997' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113007733916649997'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113007733916649997'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/10/lost-bag.html' title='Lost bag'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-113007594937289808</id><published>2005-10-20T15:48:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-10-23T15:59:18.543+02:00</updated><title type='text'>A day in Japan</title><content type='html'>I went into a town, had some dinner with strangers and made acquaintances.&lt;br /&gt;The people were very nice and I love the architecture&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-113007594937289808?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/113007594937289808/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=113007594937289808' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113007594937289808'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113007594937289808'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/10/day-in-japan.html' title='A day in Japan'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-112939520302688479</id><published>2005-10-15T18:40:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-10-15T18:53:23.033+02:00</updated><title type='text'>A change of movement</title><content type='html'>I woke up and everything around me seemed to move differently. Everything seemed to have a blur outline and movement was unsynchronized: every object was too thin and people moved with their hands arriving to the correct location first and then the rest followed. It was somewhat caterpillar like.&lt;br /&gt;Shapes thus seemed to deform first. It was frightening, but refreshing at the same time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-112939520302688479?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/112939520302688479/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=112939520302688479' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112939520302688479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112939520302688479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/10/change-of-movement.html' title='A change of movement'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-112914806924803774</id><published>2005-10-12T22:14:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-10-12T22:14:29.256+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Angel in the pocket</title><content type='html'>I live a “movie”. I loose my moneybag in a pub whereon I return to the pub to get my moneybag back. But now something sticks out from the moneybag. It pull it out and I see a little machine with a head that looks like a head of an angel, further some gears behind the head and finally a button. I push the button. Suddenly a sword and a little jetplane come out of the mouth of the head of the angel. The Jetplane gets bigger and I start to fly above the clouds with it. Under my body I see the heaven as some kind of a “number-carpet” full of moving green 8’s. It looks like the Matrix-Code from the film “Matrix”. I have a lot of fun while a music is playing in the background.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After this experience I find myself in the pub again. The little machine gets lost. But someone find another similar machine which comes from Yugoslawia. Unfortunatley nobody at my place can handle with it, as it comes from that country. Thus me and some other people decide to search for the original machine which is from germany. Thereby we find signs that point on a front door of a house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wake up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-112914806924803774?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/112914806924803774/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=112914806924803774' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112914806924803774'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112914806924803774'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/10/angel-in-pocket.html' title='Angel in the pocket'/><author><name>Archangel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07981608179974915823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-112913569459589437</id><published>2005-10-12T18:01:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-10-12T18:48:16.010+02:00</updated><title type='text'>strange meeting.</title><content type='html'>I was on my way to an exposition in an old hometown of mine.&lt;br /&gt;I was riding the bike to the old art building. I ran into TDJ who was obviously not happy to see me, but he *allowed* me to follow him to the same place. Later Sander joined, he couldn't find the place and was busy going in circles in the rural area. We saw the big flats and there was our destination.&lt;br /&gt;We entered the strange sober looking building and had to take the elevator to the second floor. &lt;br /&gt;The elevator was a small student size fridge.. The others were already gone. I looked at the cold square box and decided to give it a go, instead of taking the stairs. Some claustrophobic seconds later, I got out, and came to the conclusion that I had to lose weight and my neck hurt. I could not see them anymore and looked at some blue plates which were set up as a maze. I walked around there a bit and went back down. Arriving on the first floor again, I had a hard time getting back out.. I managed to do it and lay there shivering from the cold while the Focus members had a laugh at me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-112913569459589437?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/112913569459589437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=112913569459589437' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112913569459589437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112913569459589437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/10/strange-meeting.html' title='strange meeting.'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-112886725318740905</id><published>2005-10-09T15:57:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-10-09T16:14:13.193+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Grey beach</title><content type='html'>We went to the beach. I took off my shirt and ran to the sea in my bathing suit leaving the rest behind. Meral followed me at a slow pace. She looked at me being exited about going for a swim, while the sun was not exactly at it's best. The beach has grey and black sand and there were a lot of large rocks in the water. She looked up at the clouds and asked me if it wasn't cold. I told her it wasn't and invited her to join. As she took off her shirt a chilly wind passed and she looked at &lt;br /&gt;me with a sarcastic look. About 3 others also took their chance and were playing and running around. The rest of the group seemed to be discussing the beach instead of enjoying it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-112886725318740905?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/112886725318740905/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=112886725318740905' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112886725318740905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112886725318740905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/10/grey-beach.html' title='Grey beach'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-112886847839910234</id><published>2005-10-08T16:16:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-10-09T16:34:38.406+02:00</updated><title type='text'>The small bridge</title><content type='html'>Near a low bridge outside a small town, I decided to go for a swim.&lt;br /&gt;The sun shone bright and I was ready to cool off a bit. I walked over the bright, long, green grass&lt;br /&gt;The clear water streamed invitingly. I went in near the shore and others that saw me to that soon followed. After just a few seconds an alligator took a snap at me. Everyone ran, but blocking my way and running through the grass was not easy when it grows like in a swamp. &lt;br /&gt;I got into a safe distance from the croc. And watched him trying to threaten us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knew this had happened before. Why did I take the chance again..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-112886847839910234?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/112886847839910234/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=112886847839910234' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112886847839910234'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112886847839910234'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/10/small-bridge.html' title='The small bridge'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-112852853073996789</id><published>2005-10-05T17:47:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-10-05T18:08:50.746+02:00</updated><title type='text'>It starts...</title><content type='html'>We took the train as I got out I landed in between the platform and the train. I had to transfer to the next wagon, but was too weak to pull myself up. I looked dazed at which part of the train would crush me if it were to advance further in it's journey. An arm of a man pulled me up, just after the &lt;br /&gt;whistle was blown and the doors were starting to close...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I arrived at a meeting place. There were people chilling out on the couch in front of me . It looked like a bunker, the walls were made of plain concrete and there were just some couches installed and arcade machines being used. Some people turned into animal creatures. They were not of the kind I  know the name of. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I visited the supermarket in this town I visited. I saw they has lots of other things besides groceries, but I passed them. I found some vegetarian chinese food. A man, a stranger said it all looked delicious. He turned into a large bear like animal and wanted to attack me, to my shock. &lt;br /&gt;A small animal, alike the ones I had seen people turn into before on the youth meeting, came and defended me. They fought. Afterwards the shop personell has written down the names of the people involved and the man seemed to be an aquiantance and the small creature was part of my family.&lt;br /&gt;'Vermeer'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-112852853073996789?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/112852853073996789/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=112852853073996789' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112852853073996789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112852853073996789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/10/it-starts.html' title='It starts...'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-112886620499718875</id><published>2005-09-28T13:32:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-10-09T15:56:45.003+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Hugs</title><content type='html'>Was at a dataparty. Ronny smiled at me and said he knew I wanted a hug.&lt;br /&gt;I said nothing and considered what others might think. Then before I could realize that I was just   &lt;br /&gt;being a pain about something non problematic, he gave me a hug. I smiled and thanked him.    &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;/* Yes all these dreams about dataparties are almost every night, it is starting to become predictable */&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-112886620499718875?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/112886620499718875/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=112886620499718875' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112886620499718875'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112886620499718875'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/09/hugs.html' title='Hugs'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-112723353870090380</id><published>2005-09-20T18:17:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-09-20T18:26:11.750+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Pizza!</title><content type='html'>I woke up in the morning and the warmth pillow worked do well that I decided to get another one &lt;br /&gt;in town. When in town I met Golf and her husband (He looked like Tony, but I wasn't sure. He might have changed a lot) We walked around town together and I saw a pizza place. Golf asked me if I knew they had good pizza. I said tat as it was a big franchiser, they probably are good. Golf ordered pizza. I sat and waited and when it arrived I was too busy talking to notice that there was beef on mine. I ordered a veggie one and afterwards we went into town to meet more dataguys.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-112723353870090380?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/112723353870090380/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=112723353870090380' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112723353870090380'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112723353870090380'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/09/pizza.html' title='Pizza!'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-112707410948756127</id><published>2005-09-18T22:05:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-09-18T22:09:57.636+02:00</updated><title type='text'>The Lovemachine</title><content type='html'>It is evening, I go into a kind of kiosk, where a welfare practical man lives and who has invented a Machine and/or a special mean to find out how your true love will look like in the future. It is an older gentleman. He says, that I should concentrate on certain objects in my periphery, I do it and sometime later I loose my consciousness. Afterwards he seizes me under the arms, and I can see a nice girl. She runs away from me and I follow her up to a kind elevator, where I see her for the first time in front of me. She is my first "true love", this is how she will look like if I should ever meet her. She has curls, is really sweetly and looks passionate, just like a passionate Latin. I feel immediately a deep intimate love for her and she for me also. We go the stairs downward, where I suddenly see the place which is full of so-called "XXX Dogs", Dobermans with pricks around the neck. The true love also lost itself in the turmoil. One of the dogs bites itself at my arm, but it was not bleeding since there is a kind of protection chain around my arm. I regain consciousness and see the old man with its crew around me again. He tries to do the procedure again, so that I can discover a next and second "true love". After several attempts, we fail, and there he comes on the resolution not to try it again since the "first true love" must be locked only once, i.e. we found out that I have to be together with that girl sometime and the relationship must be enclosed to try again searching for my “second true love”. It seems that if you have once issued this procedure with the welfare pracitcal man, there will be always another true love coming, that means a second, a third and a fourth (and more) true love(s). It turned out that the case with the true love is just a shine, and you can’t get out of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is meanwhile day, I go from the kiosk out and go the stairs downward, whereby I see a carat pupil, how he kicks against a table step, coached by a trainer. Down arrived, I see an old Chinese man, who looks like in these old Eastern films with Jackie Chan under the Kiosk. I ask him for assistance, he says something like "duck you!" suddenly, I look to the rear and duck myself, whereby a paper flier comes approached. In the paper flier is a warrant of apprehension with the address of the Chinese man and a syringe. The Chinese man is there to prepare for the whole history with the true love an end.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-112707410948756127?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/112707410948756127/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=112707410948756127' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112707410948756127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112707410948756127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/09/lovemachine.html' title='The Lovemachine'/><author><name>Archangel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07981608179974915823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-112703528123080130</id><published>2005-09-18T11:15:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-09-18T12:31:19.873+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Micro insects attack</title><content type='html'>I rented a horror movie about devil worshipping. I saw the movie and felt a bit odd afterwards.&lt;br /&gt;It was time to bring it back and I was thinking about whether I liked it or not. I noticed a dark cloud outside, though the corner of my eyes. I opened the window and took a look. I saw a huge black cloud over the houses on the end of the street. A second later it was rushing towards me. I panicked   &lt;br /&gt;and quickly closed it. Amazed I stared at micro insects jumping like fleas against the window.&lt;br /&gt; I had to return the film today, but the insects frightened me. I took the leaflet out of the videobox and read it as I went downstairs and opened the door. The cloud immediately came towards me &lt;br /&gt;again. I threw away the paper and they slowly devoured it. I turned around and I saw that my 2 Swedish guests; aunts of a good friend were downstairs too. I told them what was going on and one fled upstairs, while the other stared at me in horror. &lt;br /&gt; I decided to take my chance and make a sprint. I waited for them to reach the end of the street again and then I grabbed by bicycle and went as fast as I could. When I arrived in the neighboring street and the videostore, There were a few on my clothes. I went inside and quickly walked up to the counter, bringing a few inside. I threw it on the counter and the woman immediately got bitten by them. I realized I wasn' t feeling a thing. I went back outside and more insects came inside. The woman was being devoured. I ran..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-112703528123080130?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/112703528123080130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=112703528123080130' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112703528123080130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112703528123080130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/09/micro-insects-attack.html' title='Micro insects attack'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-112704005385430097</id><published>2005-09-17T12:31:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-09-18T12:40:53.856+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Another dataparty</title><content type='html'>We came to the partyplace and to a room of our own. I got a plastic key. I found out it was on the third floor. I was happy that it wasn' t on the floor, as there seemed to be guests for the nearby Hardcore party as well. The nazi skinheads did not appear kind...&lt;br /&gt;I took the unstable elevator up and ran into a drunk ronny. Luckily I had my hugging mde on , so I gave him a hug and we talked a bit.He seemed to be my neighbour. Then I went to my room. &lt;br /&gt;I took a shower and was tired.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-112704005385430097?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/112704005385430097/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=112704005385430097' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112704005385430097'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112704005385430097'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/09/another-dataparty.html' title='Another dataparty'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-112688702093590213</id><published>2005-09-16T18:02:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-09-16T18:10:20.936+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Primary Star</title><content type='html'>I went to the data party.&lt;br /&gt;The building was much bigger than last year, it also had a garage inside. &lt;br /&gt;In the same building there was a fleamarket, but that was almost over.&lt;br /&gt;I went inside the partyplace and started to look around for friends.&lt;br /&gt;I saw a few familiar looking polish faces, Sander and Marco the organiser.&lt;br /&gt;I seated my bagpack in the rear outside big tent and I was hoping to see some more familiar faces later.&lt;br /&gt;In the evening I woke up in the tent and took a look outside the building. I saw a bus full of Down syndrom kids that just had a meeting next door. I frowned, went back inside and enjoyed the party vibe.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-112688702093590213?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/112688702093590213/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=112688702093590213' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112688702093590213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112688702093590213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/09/primary-star.html' title='Primary Star'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-112688647533064493</id><published>2005-09-15T17:54:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-09-16T18:01:15.360+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Handlabour</title><content type='html'>A woman was making something small and fibrous. It looked somewhat like a bag. &lt;br /&gt;2 small scorpions  walked of the fabric and I saw no reaction from her. I warned her , but she still wasn't impressed and said she wasn't afraid of spiders. I explained to er that they weren't just spiders. She looked again, shook them away and continued her work.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-112688647533064493?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/112688647533064493/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=112688647533064493' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112688647533064493'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112688647533064493'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/09/handlabour.html' title='Handlabour'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-112672703426747589</id><published>2005-09-14T21:22:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-09-14T21:44:40.966+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Dinner with Johan</title><content type='html'>When discovering town I met Johan. We decided to go for some food . &lt;br /&gt;We sat outside his small white house . It was warm outside, and the sun shone very bright on the sand colored houses. The area reminded me of something middle eastern. &lt;br /&gt;The front lawn had a wooden large table, for around 6 people and we sat eating. Then his parents and siblings were noticed by him and he gestured me to get out of sight, so I did.&lt;br /&gt;A few meters away I waited for him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-112672703426747589?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/112672703426747589/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=112672703426747589' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112672703426747589'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112672703426747589'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/09/dinner-with-johan.html' title='Dinner with Johan'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-112643832824954592</id><published>2005-09-11T13:22:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-09-11T13:33:50.100+02:00</updated><title type='text'>The Playboy selling Christian.</title><content type='html'>On a holiday, we visited a town, I had been before.&lt;br /&gt;We first went to the supermarket, which was quite large for such a small town, and bought some food.&lt;br /&gt;In the evening I went to a house that I had been to before. They had free beds for any visitor. I did remember that there was a looney that wanted to stab me, and I hoped he left by now. &lt;br /&gt;As we arrived on the parking place in front. We were greeted by a man I met before.&lt;br /&gt;He acted all Christian and yet wanted to sell us Playboy magazine with a 5% discount.&lt;br /&gt;A 5% discount was too little to begin with. He followed us around and the same thing happened.&lt;br /&gt;I warned the others to stay, because this guy wasn't to be trusted.&lt;br /&gt;He followed us even till up to our room. Then he went down and sat in a dark corner.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-112643832824954592?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/112643832824954592/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=112643832824954592' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112643832824954592'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112643832824954592'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/09/playboy-selling-christian.html' title='The Playboy selling Christian.'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-112643879379368155</id><published>2005-09-10T13:34:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-09-11T13:54:53.630+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Church meeting and explosion.</title><content type='html'>The son of the preacher woman called for me to arrange a performance along with a local band.&lt;br /&gt;He called to Gordon as they were his friends, however Gordon was too busy to talk about it. &lt;br /&gt;Later there was a sermon in the big hall of the church. There was a huge window there that had a view over a few private homes. I was looking outside thinking of other things,  while I heard a pop and saw a red flame come out one of the attic windows. I frowned my eyebrows and looked more concetrated to see what would happen next. A woman that was watching me for a while looked at me and  &lt;br /&gt;said it was very rude of me to not pay atention to the preaching. She asked if I didn' t care about what she had to say. I was honest and answered 'no', then told her what I had seen. I got up and went outside to check it out, while several others were already on the spot. &lt;br /&gt;It was a few metres up hill and arriving there I saw my brother and mother discussing her irresponsible behavior again. I shook my head and went on to the location.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-112643879379368155?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/112643879379368155/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=112643879379368155' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112643879379368155'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112643879379368155'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/09/church-meeting-and-explosion.html' title='Church meeting and explosion.'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-112583040812867588</id><published>2005-09-04T12:22:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-09-04T12:42:09.846+02:00</updated><title type='text'>30 years celebration of Eindhoven</title><content type='html'>I woke up in my small, colorful, round, tent, which stood on a camping place in the middle of Eindhoven town. Ancient Greek like  buildings stood around here and someone had placed festivity flags that lined out exactly above my tent. Apparently the town existed for 30 years now, though I was sure it was at least a century longer..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I went back in to change to my normal garment and when I got out again, they were gone. I noticed a large red circus tent, so I went inside to see what it was all about. I saw only women, dressed in the same Vegas-like fluffy outfit and they were wearing Venetian masks. I went back outside and decided to go to the shopping mall. There I came to a neat looking new shop. They sold statues, alike the one around my tent...&lt;br /&gt;A woman came to greet me. She stood performing some electric boogie robot moves for me.&lt;br /&gt;I was delighted that the woman was so good at this. After she was done I complimented her. And went straight "home" to enjoy the happy feeling and try some of my own dancing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I first dropped by the large red tent, to see if there was anything interesting happening, and I saw, to my great pleasure that there was a big scener meeting going on. I smiled and hopped past the tables and was greeting people. I felt so warm inside that I regained my strength to hover. And I hovered straight through the roof. Apparently there was a second floor built in and a pile of fries came down, luckily falling on no one's head. &lt;br /&gt;I held on, as it was dark and hard to find my way back if I completely let go.&lt;br /&gt;I flew around the tent and saw Mickael there. For some reason he changed into my ex and we made love on the spot, while I was crying because I actually hated the things he had done to me. My cravings for love an d caressing was bigger then my reason...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-112583040812867588?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/112583040812867588/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=112583040812867588' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112583040812867588'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112583040812867588'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/09/30-years-celebration-of-eindhoven.html' title='30 years celebration of Eindhoven'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-112583079341254197</id><published>2005-09-03T12:42:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-09-04T12:46:33.413+02:00</updated><title type='text'>flying around the sea</title><content type='html'>My ability to float was back.&lt;br /&gt;I flew outside the atmosphere into space and looked around and wondered which part of the globe I would visit next. I aimed for a spot that had a lot of water and took a steep dive.&lt;br /&gt;I apparently lost consciousness for a few seconds, then I woke up in an area that looked like flooded ruins. I looked around me and crawled into a floating box to dry up a bit.&lt;br /&gt;The sun was shining hot.&lt;br /&gt;I saw no signs of life around.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-112583079341254197?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/112583079341254197/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=112583079341254197' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112583079341254197'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112583079341254197'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/09/flying-around-sea.html' title='flying around the sea'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-112583661592136233</id><published>2005-08-25T14:17:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-09-04T14:40:49.400+02:00</updated><title type='text'>not late!</title><content type='html'>I hoped I wasn' t going to get late on this appointment. I had been looking forward to this for a while. I got up early in the morning and  was so glad I made it..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the evening, I saw the town turning into a dangerous place in an instant. The smell of pee on the station was disguisting, and the drug dealers flocked the area. A homeless guy nearby crashed into the wall totally drunk.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-112583661592136233?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/112583661592136233/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=112583661592136233' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112583661592136233'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112583661592136233'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/08/not-late.html' title='not late!'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-112583732808342223</id><published>2005-08-24T14:23:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-09-04T14:35:28.090+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Crime in a shopping mall</title><content type='html'>I went to a shopping mall in Woensel. I was evening and most of the stores were closed.&lt;br /&gt;I saw a Turkish and Antillian kid standing near a bicycle parking place. I felt like they were up to something, but I did not want to act all prejudice, so I walked towards the stand near them. &lt;br /&gt;They gave me a look like they wanted to intimidate me, but I ignored it.  Suddenly they came near and a 3rd pink kid appeared and started talking. He said I would not need my bike anymore and put his own lock on it. I became very angry and wanted to give him a punch in the face , but they were armed so I let go and ran away. I was all upset and knocked on a random door for shelter . They let me in and I told my story. I called the police, but they wouldn' t help me. The inhabitants told me that nearby living people had their houses lit on fire and their windows smashed in because of their interference with the gangs.&lt;br /&gt;The next day I visited the same mall and I saw a shopowner being robbed by police agents. They told me it was just an exercise, but I had disbelief.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-112583732808342223?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/112583732808342223/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=112583732808342223' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112583732808342223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112583732808342223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/08/crime-in-shopping-mall.html' title='Crime in a shopping mall'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-112583144156083493</id><published>2005-08-19T12:48:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-09-04T13:53:42.090+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Roof party in the UK</title><content type='html'>We had a data party on the roof floor of a building in the UK. We avoided the roof terrace as there were people living downstairs that might take offense. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The party was getting started, people were relaxing. Now a woman from a lower building hung out of her window, she shouted that she had enough of our mischief and she will not accept it anymore. I was worried as I was the organizer and I hoped people could stay well behaved. She threatened us. I tried to argue with her, but she left already. A few minutes later we met on the stairs of our building. She was angry and held up a knife, staring at me furiously. I started walking into the opposite direction, but another angry looking stranger was walking towards me. &lt;br /&gt; I was trapped as the knife bearing woman was holding up the knife to stab me. &lt;br /&gt;I managed to explain we were reasonable people whom she could talk to and works things out with. &lt;br /&gt;To my own relief it started to work,  however, the guy that came from the other side was still raged. He followed me as I ran off and the woman tried reasoning with him, but he trapped me. &lt;br /&gt;He wanted to drop me from a high point in the staircase. I asked him as calm as possible why he was so bitter and he broke down and weeped.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-112583144156083493?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/112583144156083493/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=112583144156083493' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112583144156083493'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112583144156083493'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/08/roof-party-in-uk.html' title='Roof party in the UK'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-112438585531398734</id><published>2005-08-18T19:17:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-08-18T19:42:54.180+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Polish scener</title><content type='html'>I was in town and there I noticed a guy wearing a shirt that looks like an intro. I asked him if he was a scener. He looked at me, like he saw water burning. He told me he was polish and didn't go to X  . Eventually we walked together talking about new demoparties. Then I arrived at the spot where I arranged to meet a scener. I introduced them, and the guy I met with was very surprised to hear I just started to talk to hi..&lt;br /&gt;Then I went home to Goto80"s place. I noticed he lived in some sort of community house.&lt;br /&gt;I asked him if he has classic intruments. He told me he didn' t while he stroke a few keys on the piano in the living area. There was a little girl that was asking me permission to play in some facility. I looked puzzled. She knew my name... How?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-112438585531398734?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/112438585531398734/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=112438585531398734' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112438585531398734'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112438585531398734'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/08/polish-scener.html' title='Polish scener'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-112404184746177576</id><published>2005-08-14T19:14:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-08-14T19:58:11.593+02:00</updated><title type='text'>The Netherlands borders with Sweden?</title><content type='html'>I worked in the Netherlands, in a forest rich area. It bordered with Sweden, but had a large fence to mark the border.Behind the fence there was a large valley, full of trees and rocky landscapes. &lt;br /&gt;I wanted to cross so I and some colleagues tried making a big leap to the other side. We were hanging onto our parachutes for a few minutes, smiling as we made it through, but the authorities were already awaiting our arrival on the spot we'd land. I had to explain my actions at work the next day. I asked him if I even had done anything illegal at all... He told me that I was supposed to bring a passport and not just a European ID card.&lt;br /&gt; The next day we met up with Joakim and Skyhawk. We shook hands through the holes in the fence and wished eachother the best.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-112404184746177576?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/112404184746177576/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=112404184746177576' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112404184746177576'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112404184746177576'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/08/netherlands-borders-with-sweden.html' title='The Netherlands borders with Sweden?'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-112387287608318076</id><published>2005-08-12T20:06:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-08-12T20:54:36.090+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Everyone Getting Shot</title><content type='html'>I was in a small shop with my Turkish friends. Some had their bicycles inside and have been leaning on it. We were deciding what food to buy, when I realized I had a shocking deja-vu.&lt;br /&gt;I looked at them and carefully told them what I thought was about to happen: there'd be at least 3 men standing around us in the shop. They were snipers and took aim at us and the rest of the inhabitants in town would die as well.&lt;br /&gt;I told them I had to go outside to make a chance to survive and it was up to them to believe me or not. They wanted to discuss it with me, but I knew we were running out of time so I went outside on my skateboard. After a few minutes I heard rifles go off and I knew all my friends were dead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They shot at me from a distance. I saw the bullets bounce off the pavement, making red sparks.&lt;br /&gt;I ran for my life uphill, into the bushes. It was getting dark and I seemed to have shaken them off. &lt;br /&gt;In one way or the other I managed to get myself one of their rifles and I has a clear shot of them in their hideout. I took a shot at 2 people , but the bullets didn't penetrate them at all..&lt;br /&gt;They were machines..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-112387287608318076?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/112387287608318076/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=112387287608318076' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112387287608318076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112387287608318076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/08/everyone-getting-shot.html' title='Everyone Getting Shot'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-113914117993279982</id><published>2005-08-08T12:49:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-07-09T10:48:36.443+02:00</updated><title type='text'>sleep and Hugs</title><content type='html'>I woke up at Henrik's place. I thought he looked cute and I hugged his hand. I gave kisses on his hand and then climbed into his bed and gave him kisses on his cheek.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-113914117993279982?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/113914117993279982/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=113914117993279982' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113914117993279982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113914117993279982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/08/sleep-and-hugs.html' title='sleep and Hugs'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-113180557261315369</id><published>2005-07-27T14:59:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-11-12T15:26:12.653+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Computer party in my town</title><content type='html'>On my way to the 8-bit party I stumbled upon a shop that had lots of old games. Literally several meters of the wall were stacked with NES, SNES, Sega, Game boy and other -games.&lt;br /&gt;I noticed 3 Commodores: 1 C64 and 2 bigger ones that were taped to hold it together.   &lt;br /&gt;I asked how much they cost, but he would not give me a price. He wanted me to be sure about wanting to buy it first. &lt;br /&gt; I went on to the party with the Commodores still in the back of my mind. The party was located in and old mall and had a busy busstop at the foot of the building. I went up some sort of magnetic surface and then... ended up in a kitchen. &lt;br /&gt; I sought for the party area and reached it after about 15 minutes. It wasn't really crowded in there and I recognized no one but Sören. Outside was also a reserved area, but it was crowded. Then the doors shut and I seemed to accidentaly be trapped in a bus. I got out of the bus and went back inside the building..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-113180557261315369?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/113180557261315369/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=113180557261315369' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113180557261315369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/113180557261315369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/07/computer-party-in-my-town.html' title='Computer party in my town'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-112220616871295813</id><published>2005-07-24T13:32:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-07-24T13:56:08.720+02:00</updated><title type='text'>small happenings</title><content type='html'>My sister went along to Denmark, but I completely forgot that she probably wouldn' t like going along to the 3 day party. We stood there in kobenhavn thinking about what to do.&lt;br /&gt;~&lt;br /&gt;Natascha, Fabian, Refet, my sister and I went to a large new swimmingpool.&lt;br /&gt;We visited the adventurous side of the pool with it's slides and streams. Suddenly, half an hour later, we had to get out according to the supervisor. He said that we were acting too wild and that an old lady complained about if she went underwater, we might be in her way when trying to surface.  They emptied the pool and had us go to the more calm pool. I told my sister that this was obviously racism as we were quite behaved and the only ones there, and there was no reason to remove the water.&lt;br /&gt;~&lt;br /&gt;There were 2 sides we could chose, the left or the right path. The right path had been fully tested and seemed to be fun, but the left was untested. I was asked to chose the left path, but I immediately found out it was in the wrong language. I didn't finish my move and sent a bugreport to the maker.&lt;br /&gt;~&lt;br /&gt;I saw her a few times by the trainstation, looking angrily at me and avoided her at all costs. &lt;br /&gt;For some reason I entered her house via the window and when she noticed me I froze and she held me and slowly made a deep flesh wound in my hand with a razor. I looked away, but I knew she was looking at me with all hate and wanted me to watch my hand be mutilated.  I was so afraid that probably that was the reason I hardly even felt the horrible pain I was supposed to. &lt;br /&gt;I saw some scissors lying on her table and I cried  and threatened to slice her throat and begged her to let me go.&lt;br /&gt;She did so. &lt;br /&gt;~&lt;br /&gt;I was in town again, saw more jewelry stores then I expected, besides the normal variety of stores. I was looking for some small shops with interesting more rare items. I passed a disco that has a sign saying they only allow stupid people, and that they should not be made fun of.&lt;br /&gt;I frowned and searched on, and only found a lot of bars with the usual drunk.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-112220616871295813?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/112220616871295813/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=112220616871295813' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112220616871295813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112220616871295813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/07/small-happenings.html' title='small happenings'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-112220476811914864</id><published>2005-07-20T13:25:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-07-24T13:32:48.120+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Fire at the neighbour' s</title><content type='html'>I was sitting on the balcony, when I noticed smoke coming from my sisters window. I raced inside and &lt;br /&gt;saw that the ceiling and the wall shared with the neigbours was smothering hot like coal on a barbeque. I filled a bucket of water and cooled down the wood. Then I went back outside and flew in front of the neighbor's window to see if they were home. I saw a woman sunbathing on the balcony and asked her if she knew about the fire. She kept relaxing and said she did, although the fire was exinguished already. She went back inside and I followed her. The whole room was black. This was obviously the origin of the fire.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-112220476811914864?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/112220476811914864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=112220476811914864' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112220476811914864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112220476811914864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/07/fire-at-neighbour-s.html' title='Fire at the neighbour&apos; s'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-112220434279612738</id><published>2005-07-19T13:19:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-07-24T13:25:42.796+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>We were in town, there were several huge monsters present. We seemed to be entering some sort of game. 2 of the competitors in the competition died, because they tore them apart. &lt;br /&gt;We won the game.&lt;br /&gt;~&lt;br /&gt;I was in a large forest, where it was quite dry and sandy.&lt;br /&gt;There was a road with lots of turns that also went downhill. I decided to be the first to follow that road. I let my bicycle go by itself and I increased speed fast, suddenly there were many people, especially women on the road. They wore south american clothing and I saw they went to a poor looking but large white hospital. They walked slowly with goods in their basket carried on their head from another buiding across the street. I was astonished and went back up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-112220434279612738?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/112220434279612738/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=112220434279612738' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112220434279612738'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112220434279612738'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/07/we-were-in-town-there-were-several.html' title=''/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-112220085851574806</id><published>2005-07-17T12:08:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-07-24T12:27:38.603+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Forbidden To Fly With The Queen Around</title><content type='html'>The Queen came by to visit our workplace.&lt;br /&gt;I floated around inside our building, which had a high roof ( about 10 meters).&lt;br /&gt;The Queen clapped, but it was obvious she thought it was merely a trick. I opened up a window on the 2nd floor and stepped outside. She and Alexander the prince wanted to stop me, or have me stopped, but she didn't manage to and I stood there facing them, like there was still solid floor beneath me.&lt;br /&gt;Then I started moving around. That seemed to have disturbed them as they reminded themselves that it was time to go. They still had an awkward look on their faces as they got into their luxuous limousine. I immediately went back inside, racing towards my seat enjoying the wind in my face. The rest followed shortly. They were expressing being surprised that I used my gift around them..&lt;br /&gt;Steve and Christian came to me and said they needed to speak to me about something important.&lt;br /&gt;I immediately regretted my actions, and was ready to defend myself, but they asked me to supply my phonenumber to Sander. It seemed that we were mailing too much and in stove's opinion, "just because we have a relationship" and I interrupted him. I replied that just because he has a crush on me doesn't mean that I am in love with him aswell and made clear we were not involved. I looked into Sanders direction and saw his mood had changed for the worse. I felt sorry for him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-112220085851574806?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/112220085851574806/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=112220085851574806' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112220085851574806'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112220085851574806'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/07/forbidden-to-fly-with-queen-around.html' title='Forbidden To Fly With The Queen Around'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-112219962950546428</id><published>2005-07-14T11:59:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-07-24T13:19:37.846+02:00</updated><title type='text'>snake bite</title><content type='html'>We had two snakes &lt;a href="http://www.teriguana.nl/pics_reptielen/koraalslang0.jpg"&gt; with colored rings&lt;/a&gt; One had escaped. My mother found it and petted the snake, but then it bit her. I pushed her into going to the hospital, but we had no one to drive her so I asked an employee of our store to drive her. He said that he cannot help the customers then and objected, but I eventually managed to change his mind. &lt;br /&gt;Afterwards we grabbed a pizza and went home around 2:30 AM.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-112219962950546428?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/112219962950546428/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=112219962950546428' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112219962950546428'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112219962950546428'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/07/snake-bite.html' title='snake bite'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-112120634155642694</id><published>2005-07-12T18:45:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-07-13T00:12:21.586+02:00</updated><title type='text'>No traveling papers, stuck in Sweden</title><content type='html'>I was at a big square, there were more and more kids watching me float around. The 2 others whom I was with did some tricks too, but I was the only one whom could fly. There were a few kids watching. That group increased rapidly and I found out a nearby school was out. I left as I din't feel like enduring their annoying behavior. The other 2 remained at the spot.&lt;br /&gt;One fat kid asked me why I didn't stay, and I explained to him that I had enough of that crap at school myself.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I wanted to take the train to Kopenhagen, from Stockholm.&lt;br /&gt;I noticed I had forgot my scanrail ticket and all other important documents included in that map. I didn't have much money left and no idea which of the stations was the one that the train to Kopenhagen passed. I also wondered why I didn't remember arriving in Kopenhagen.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-112120634155642694?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/112120634155642694/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=112120634155642694' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112120634155642694'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112120634155642694'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/07/no-traveling-papers-stuck-in-sweden.html' title='No traveling papers, stuck in Sweden'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-112220209014438135</id><published>2005-07-09T12:47:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-07-24T13:05:37.636+02:00</updated><title type='text'>New appartment with 5 Roommates</title><content type='html'>The whole area was full of flats. I went looking for an appartment to live in.&lt;br /&gt;I stumbled upon a 6 roomed quite appartment to live in. There were two girls that were lesbian that lived there, and also 3 guys. The furtniture had a reddish overall look to it.&lt;br /&gt;In the flat there was a small fleamarket like stand on every floor next to the elevator.&lt;br /&gt; The characters from comic books (superheroes, girlie comics) came to life everytime someone walked by. The nice thing that they also helped out when you were in trouble outside, but that's another story. &lt;br /&gt;I accepted the appartment and had to get used to having so many people living around me. I already knew one guy as a colleague so I asked him if I could ride along to work every morning. Another fellow got jealous that he wanted to do that for me, but not for him. I explained that we worked at the same place so there was no detour involved and he accepted now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to Mark's appartment on Friday. We made love and I went back home the same evening. He expected me to stay longer, but I didn't want to and I wondered why the hell I went back to him in the first place and got myself seduced by such an asshole which is my ex.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-112220209014438135?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/112220209014438135/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=112220209014438135' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112220209014438135'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112220209014438135'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/07/new-appartment-with-5-roommates.html' title='New appartment with 5 Roommates'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-112076599159904764</id><published>2005-07-07T21:36:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-07-07T21:53:11.603+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Homeless woman/ intruder</title><content type='html'>Taking the bike, going to school I greeted by old best friend Doeschka across the street, who ran late for classes, looking at her facial expression behind the window. As soon as I entered another street I saw a homeless person riding her bicycle next to me.  She asked if I recognized her as a woman. I didn't notice at first, but I did now, though I with held her from an answer.&lt;br /&gt;She kept asking me patiently and I gave an honest answer.&lt;br /&gt;I noticed she had quite a gentle voice for someone looking so shabby.&lt;br /&gt;The next time I met her I saw that she made a picture of me.&lt;br /&gt;I felt sorry for her and wanted to help her get a better life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I heard feet on the wooden carpet. They woke me up instantly. I listened to where they were going and heard them stop right next to my bed. I froze.&lt;br /&gt;I felt him leaning over the bed trying to see if I was awake, then he grabbed my hands and I was afraid to breathe.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-112076599159904764?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/112076599159904764/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=112076599159904764' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112076599159904764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112076599159904764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/07/homeless-woman-intruder.html' title='Homeless woman/ intruder'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-112076496100023176</id><published>2005-07-06T21:33:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-07-07T21:36:01.000+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Found "O.K. Computer"</title><content type='html'>The OK computer cd by radiohead was still missing. &lt;br /&gt;Then as I grabbed my Paul Simon cd I saw that there were in fact 2 inside and finally I inserted the cd back in it's original case. I took it along to play for a friend.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-112076496100023176?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/112076496100023176/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=112076496100023176' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112076496100023176'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112076496100023176'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/07/found-ok-computer.html' title='Found &quot;O.K. Computer&quot;'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-112076477556168330</id><published>2005-07-05T21:16:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-07-07T21:32:55.566+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Airport and smoking  inside</title><content type='html'>The airplanes outside were covered with small lights like it was Christmas.&lt;br /&gt;Some American only celebration was going on.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; A woman sat in a room at the airport where she was to provide care for children passing through. The place was full of smoke however.&lt;br /&gt;Her supervisor walked by and took a quick peek inside, then he completely turned his face, seeing her uneasy smile towards him. I was also present in the room and wondered what she was thinking. I got inspired to make an ifli picture with a dragon, two skulls and a red flesh like arch. They stood with fire burning on the background like lava.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man and women were discussing the smoke incident. &lt;br /&gt;A bit later a child asked if cigarettes were a special pilot treat as they were included in his surprise package for little pilots.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-112076477556168330?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/112076477556168330/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=112076477556168330' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112076477556168330'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112076477556168330'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/07/airport-and-smoking-inside.html' title='Airport and smoking  inside'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-112076381371302854</id><published>2005-07-04T21:04:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-07-07T21:16:53.720+02:00</updated><title type='text'>airport carnival</title><content type='html'>There was a fair in town. It was was almost done at 17:45 being the last day it was held at the location. We had to look for the Ryanair stand however.&lt;br /&gt;It was hard to find as the rest of the official small registers were closing down, becoming indistictive. Finally I found the Ryanair stand that was somewhere in the middle of the airport. I was pissed off as my brother played arcade games instead of helping me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-112076381371302854?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/112076381371302854/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=112076381371302854' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112076381371302854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112076381371302854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/07/airport-carnival.html' title='airport carnival'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-112076222886637223</id><published>2005-07-03T20:46:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-07-07T20:50:28.873+02:00</updated><title type='text'>The Boy That Merged With Doors</title><content type='html'>I knew a boy that could merge with doors . Th edoors also had a personality, those doors were harder to open. I myself was hiding from a warlord. I was looking for Haku the river spirit to help me, but I only saw other dragons on the clouds. There were trees growing about 6 metres apart from eachother like they were planted that way. I came to the end of the cloudand still didn't see it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-112076222886637223?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/112076222886637223/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=112076222886637223' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112076222886637223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112076222886637223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/07/boy-that-merged-with-doors.html' title='The Boy That Merged With Doors'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-112076270213912863</id><published>2005-07-02T20:53:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-07-07T21:01:49.400+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Brother test driving a train</title><content type='html'>My brother was assigned to test drive a train via remote control.&lt;br /&gt;He managed to let it drive for 100 meters until it crashed into the train stopper projectile in the underground railway station. Many people were watching and became reluctant to get in again. I advised them to sit in the back of the train, and arranged the distribution of seats.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-112076270213912863?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/112076270213912863/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=112076270213912863' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112076270213912863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112076270213912863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/07/brother-test-driving-train.html' title='Brother test driving a train'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-112015871208578047</id><published>2005-06-30T20:52:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-06-30T21:11:52.090+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Kidnap attempt near the busstop</title><content type='html'>I was waiting for the bus at the busstop near Mark's house. &lt;br /&gt;I didn't visit him however. It was late in the evening. A man, around his 35 years stopped in front of me with his mountainbike. He had short natural blond hair. I didn't feel too threatened as he just seemed to want to ask something. Then he circled around the glass construction and stopped in front of me again. I knew there was trouble at hand. He asked me where I was going, I told him I was heading home and added a threat to that. He said I'd never arrive there, and I ran towards Mark's flat, with my heart pounding in my throat. I tried calling his name as I passed his house at ground level, but  I was too much out of breath to do so effectively. I managed to outrun him somehow, for the 15 meters, but he was behind me in a flash when I yelled Mark's name and pressed his doorbell like mad. I hoped he'd look outside like he normally does. In a flash I remembered his behavior of ignoring         &lt;br /&gt;the bell if he wan't expecting anyone. I also considered the possibility of   &lt;br /&gt;him having a new gf or wanting to actually see me suffering, or thinking it was a trick. Meanwhile, the man behind me held a cloth in front of my nose. which probably held intoxicating fluids.  I held my breath.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-112015871208578047?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/112015871208578047/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=112015871208578047' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112015871208578047'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112015871208578047'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/06/kidnap-attempt-near-busstop.html' title='Kidnap attempt near the busstop'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-112015244646606906</id><published>2005-06-26T19:21:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-06-30T19:27:26.466+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Best friend visit/ African trouble</title><content type='html'>I went to visit my old best friend Doeschka. She lived in a 2 floor house with a wooden interior. Her sister complained about never gettinga ny visits from us. She went upstairs, still complaining and got into a fight with the rest of the family.&lt;br /&gt;~&lt;br /&gt;At the entrance of an airport on a trip to Africa, there was an african man that said he was at war with me, or at least my tribe. He followed me around for at least half an hour when I was trying to get a train on the platform.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-112015244646606906?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/112015244646606906/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=112015244646606906' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112015244646606906'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112015244646606906'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/06/best-friend-visit-african-trouble.html' title='Best friend visit/ African trouble'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-112015209569279513</id><published>2005-06-25T19:13:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-06-30T19:21:35.693+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Flooded town</title><content type='html'>The town flooded regularly.&lt;br /&gt;There were many long and wide light stone bridges. A little girl came in my direction, riding her tricycle. A bigger wave than the rest of the waved that past the bridge was following her to and I saw it was gaining on her fast. &lt;br /&gt;I ran towards her and grabbed her and the bike, then ran back to the end of the bridge on higher ground. I made it. Later as the water drew back because of the high tide, I found a large cave.&lt;br /&gt;I tried covering it with sand but heard the distinct Goron sound. I left the cave open and heard them eat the gravel.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-112015209569279513?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/112015209569279513/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=112015209569279513' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112015209569279513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112015209569279513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/06/flooded-town.html' title='Flooded town'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11471125.post-112015157226622677</id><published>2005-06-24T19:02:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-06-30T19:13:26.170+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Amnesia. taking hostage</title><content type='html'>We drove the car away. I looked at him and confessed that I had no idea who I &lt;br /&gt;am. He explained to me that he had noticed this problem since half an hour ago. I was surprised he didn't notice it before. I was also surprised that he didn't ask me about one of the the two hostages we kept on the back seat, of whom one was missing since he went away for a few minutes. I felt sorry for him so I let him go. Inside our home it seemed like he was suspicious about the situation. He then held a gun against my back and then he made me stand straight and handed me the gun in a challenge. I threw it back at him as I wanted to see no killing at all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11471125-112015157226622677?l=spablauw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/feeds/112015157226622677/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11471125&amp;postID=112015157226622677' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112015157226622677'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11471125/posts/default/112015157226622677'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spablauw.blogspot.com/2005/06/amnesia-taking-hostage.html' title='Amnesia. taking hostage'/><author><name>spa blauw</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://www.geocities.com/spa8blauw/SpaenTux.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
