The Sloppy Sloth.

These past few days, it seems indeed that I have been sucked dry by a leech.

I sit around (correction : I lay around) our place doing nothing.
I spend my days laying in bed, reading ten pages of a book then putting it on the side, because really it's too consuming an effort to put the letters together.

I am becoming a complete sloth, spending day after day napping until bedtime comes.

Actually, if I want to be perfectly honest, scratch the t and the h, I've become a slob.
Our bed is surrounded by empty glasses and plates, and our apartment is filled with piles of stuff, the sad remains of my failed attempts at ranging.

You would think that I would be itching to get out and do stuff, but really, with every day that passes, I seem to lose more enthusiasm.
As I type, Mr K. is walking Bonnie alone because even the promise of some rays of sun after days of rain isn't tempting enough for me to get dressed and get a move on.

I guess this situation goes a little deeper than just me missing Mr K.
One by one, all my exams results have been coming except for two and, of course, one of them is the result of my statistics exam.
It doesn't really do wonders for my joie de vivre to spend each day not only alone but with a dagger over my head : will I have to redo that exam at the end of the summer or not ?

Thank God though, I'm beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel.
Tomorrow, we're going to my parents and it's gonna feel really good to see them and my brother since the last time we were there was like two months ago.
On Saturday, we're gathering some friends for a barbecue so the preparation should keep me busy all day.

I sure as hell can't wait because if I keep at this rate any longer, any thoughts of having a brain or a waistline will only be unreachable utopias.

x, K.


The Air That I Breathe.

Me and Mr K. function in weird ways.

When we're together, we each do our own thing.

At a party, you'll never catch us sucking throat, being one of those annoying couples who are glued to each other and don't socialize with anyone.
Actually, it's way more likely that we'll each be with our friends, making fun of those couples.

When we go back to my parents', I catch up with my family while Mr K. keeps himself busy.
It already happened that my mum pulled me aside, concerned that maybe he was feeling excluded from me and my brother's inside jokes.

The same goes for when we're just chilling at home, one of us playing guitar while the other one leafs through a magazine.

We're very touchy feely, crazy loved up people but you wouldn't think so if you saw us interact with each other.
Come to think of it, most of our friends probably think that we're both quite independent and they would be right.
I love my boy to pieces but hey, I'm a big girl, I don't need to be hanging on his arm 24/7.


Weirdly enough, when we're separated, it all changes.
Mr K. runs around like a headless chicken and as for me, well, it feels like life is sucked out of me.

A couple of days ago, Mr K. started his summer job and I started planning what I would do while he was gone.
I printed out recipes, thought of hikes to go on with Bonnie and of how I would reorganize my closet.
And then, on monday morning Mr K. left for work and so did all my energy.

For the past three days, I've been hanging around our place doing n o t h i n g.
Actually, if I wanna be really honest, by hanging around our place I mean leaving my bed once a day to make myself a sandwich.
Without my boy, it's like I'm holding my breath all day, unable to do anything until he comes back and I can breathe properly again.

I look around the rooms, telling myself that I should range or at least clean a little but for that I would need energy and for that, I would need to feed myself properly which also requires energy that I just don't have.
Defeated, I retreat to my bed with whatever old chocolate I found in the depths of our pantry and I count how many episodes of bad reality tv shows I have to watch until he comes back.

Me pathetic ?
Pfffft !

x, K.



To most people, Bruges is either a kitschy town filled with lace and chocolates, or the place where disgraced hitmen come to hide.
Not to me.

When I was in high school, we were made to read Rodenbach's Bruges-la-morte and that book influenced forever my outlook on the city.
To me, Bruges is a city of mysteries, ghosts and gargoyles.
Our recent trip to the medieval city did nothing to change that.

It was winter and, as we were hopping from one bar to another and the night progressed, the streets emptied and soon, we were the only shadows walking in the city, the only sound being the echo of our footsteps.
That night, Bruges was filled with a particularly low mist which gave you the feeling that you were walking through clouds.
Add to that the gorgeous medieval buildings and the dim street lights and well, you get a pretty mystical experience.

Yesterday, we were back to that enchanting city to catch a Russian Circles gig.
Boy, were they awesome.

The location in itself was super cool, a big warehouse next to a skatepark.
Once there, we were in for another mystical experience.
That gig was literally one of the best I have ever seen.
The melodies were so powerful and so emotional and soon, the entire audience was communing with them, a sea of heads bobbing in unison.
I see it as no coincidence that their technical team had chosen to bathe them in mist and to make the light come from behind the band, giving it a very haunted like feeling.

As we walked out to our car, once more alone in the misty streets, there it was again, the feeling that the city had a life of its own.
I'm not sure that I really believe in ghosts, but if I did, I definitely know where to find them.

x, K.


6 liters of cider later...

Yesterday, 6 long, studious, painful weeks ended.
Of course, being the member of a Gang of Losers that I am, there was still an exam to pass before I could finally breathe again, and what do you know, I'm part of the half of my class that got screwed and had the B exam.

In this case, B obviously stood for Brutally Hard.
Or Bummer.
Oh well.

The bitter taste I had in my mouth once I heard the questions those lucky bastards with the A exam had had soon disappeared though.
Being the classy broad that I am, the first thing I did once I got out of the exam room was to grab my friends and schlepp to the nearest supermarket to buy as many cider as we could carry.

Let's just say we could carry a lot and it wasn't long before I was pretty intoxicated.
Hell, after those six atrocious weeks, I could have gotten drunk on Fanta I think.
Except that well, one of my poisons of choice is cider and so here I was, tumbling on the school lawn and calling people by their name+first name+ birthdate.
It was a truly memorable morning-afternoon-evening-night and if I may say so, in no small part thanks to my erratic behavior and drunk hyena laughter.

Mr K. did tell me that he loves the fact that I am a funny drunk though.
I'll toast to that !

x, K.


Friday I'm in Love...with Austra.

Once upon a time, I was obsessed with The Knife.

Their mix of whimsical beats and haunted voices felt like nothing I had ever heard before and I loved how upbeat their songs were.
Listening to The Knife kind of felt like being at the Mad Hatter's tea party -if the Mad Hatter had been a Swedish indie kid.

Then came Tomorrow, In a Year.
They were as haunted as ever, but for me, they seemed to have lost what made them so special, their cheeriness having been replaced by a rather gloomy feeling.
The album kind of felt like what would be playing at The Knife's funeral and, with a heavy heart, I stopped waiting impatiently for their next album and chose instead to focus on their masterpieces.

I had never thought that someone could filled the void left in my heart by The Knife, but then, I discovered Austra.

Austra could very well be the cool cousin of The Knife and Florence Welsh.
In fact, if you ask them, I'm sure they'll tell you that they are indeed related.

Lose It is a perfect combination of addictive beats and of Katie Stelmanis' rich, decadent voice.
(I'm aware that that description would maybe match a fudge brownie better, but really, that's what her voice feels like, dessert for your ears.)

We literally only had to listen to Feel It Break once before it was playing every day on our speakers.
Austra has managed to cheer us up during that god awful period known as finals and for that, you should give them a listen.

Also, I don't know if I'm the only dork who pictures movie scenes in her head when she listens to music but f there was a scene in Lost In Translation where Charlotte was tripping around the streets of Tokyo, Austra would definitely be the soundtrack to that.

It would be a great soundtrack to this scene too.

If they ever tour the Old Continent, you can be sure that me and the Mister will be singing at the top of our lungs front rom -and so should you.

x, K.



* Photograph by Zohar Lindenbaum

There are many things in life that I think are unfair.

I don't understand why meat has to taste so good.
I've already given up eating pretty cows and adorable lambs and very seldom eat poultry , but how can you stop eating those cute piggies when there is such a thing as bacon ?
Every time someone mentions Babe, I cringe, revolted at how unfair it is that pigs are so cute and yummy.

I don't understand either why my hair always seems to act up on the worst days.
If I'm going to be photographed or even if I only need to look remotely decent for one reason or another, you can be certain that my otherwise rather straight hair will turn into what can only be described as a dead sheep's mane.

There aren't many things in my life that seem as unfair as Sixto Rodriguez's lack of recognition though.
Once you listen to his songs, you start questioning Bob Dylan and you definitely lose all respect for the Black Keys.

Sixto Rodriguez abandoned his music career in the 70s after his albums kind of flopped in the US and his record label folded.
I'm convinced that, would he have kept on recording songs, he would be right up there next to Bob and his harmonica.

Sixto Rodriguez has a beautiful raspy voice, with a sexy rustiness to it.
His melodies vary from rather simple (Sugarman) to full on rock'n'roll (Only Good For Conversation).
He sadly only released two albums, but both are little gems that you can listen to over and over again without getting tired of them.

Apparently, he now is a huge star in South Africa.
I really hope that the rest of the world catches on so that he gets the recognition that he deserves -and hopefully, so that he releases a new album.

One of my favorite songs of his is Halfway Up The Stairs but it's nowhere to be found so instead I'm gonna leave you with the link to I Wonder, another favorite.
Enjoy !

x K.


With A Little Help From My Friends.

I spent the last two days crying.
It seemed that everything I tried failed.

Exercises that had once seemed easy were now impossible and I couldn't seem to study anything.
I was burning our meals, bumping in everything and hurting myself seemingly every second.
I was spiralling downwards and as time was passing by, it kept on getting worse, every minute bringing me closer to my exam.
Just as it felt like I had reached a point of no return where failure was the only option, it dawned on me that there really was only one thing to do : call E.

I've known E. a long time now, and despite (or maybe thanks to ?) the fact that we're both very headstrong, she's always been like a sister to me.
While our highschool science teacher made us realize that we actually are real sisters (aaaah the wonders of genetics...) I seem to be the wussy one of the two and I always lean on her for moral support.
She doesn't take shit from anyone and I knew that she was the person I had to see in this state : no way she was gonna let me waste time crying with our exam fast approaching.

That's how, on a warm and sunny day, we locked ourselves in the library, doing exercise after exercise until we felt we understood them.
I will admit, a part of me is still trying to get me to jump off my terrace, asking over and over again whether I'm sure that I'll remember what we did today, and whether I really understood it or if I just thought so.
That same part of me is still pretty convinced that there's no way on earth that I will manage to succeed at that exam.

But, it's only a part of me.
Thanks to E., another part now believes that there might be a chance that I won't fail.
Also, I didn't waste another day crying, and for that, I will owe her eternally.

Thanks man.
You have no idea of how much you helped me today.

x, K.


Murphy Schmurphy.

Dear Murphy's law,

Thank you for making sure that my period would fall right on the week where I had to prepare my statistics exam.
I wasn't scared enough as it was, so I'm really enjoying the hormonal roller coaster that I'm on right now, it makes the studying very easy.
Come to think of it, I'm sure Mr K. loves it too, that man likes nothing better than to have to try and reason with a wailing girl who's crying like a newborn day and night.

Thanks a lot Murphy, you rock !

x, K.

Friday I'm in Love...with Herman Düne.

Like many great things in my life, Herman Düne was brought to my attention by Mister K.

Once we got our hands on Next Year in Zion, we kind of forgot about it until a cold winter day when I was sick in bed.
If I'm not too sick, I actually like sick days.
You get to lounge in bed like a cat and you don't even have to feel guilty about it because well, in your state, what can you do ?

If you're the lucky girlfriend of a Mr K., you even get freshly squeezed orange juice to make you feel better so really, having a cold is pretty great around here.

Anyways, that day I was sick in bed and Mr K. was acting as a human teddy bear.
As we kept falling asleep, the album kept playing on repeat and throughout bouts of consciousness and orange juice, we listened to it and fell in love with it.

The songs fall beautifully into one another and even if you're not feverish the quiet melodies might still put you to sleep.

That beautiful collage was given to me by Mr K.
It doesn't show much in the picture but there is a quote from one of Herman Düne's
songs on it :
My Home is Nowhere Without You. (mine either babe)

Herman Düne kind of sounds like a mainstream Devendra Banhart, with the same enchanting voice but without some of his strangeness.
* said in the best sense of the word, we are big fans of his too *

Seeing that I am now worried sick (read : scared shitless) about my statistics exam, I thought it was appropriate to put two songs :

Try To Think About Me

This song is really pretty, and seeing the frequency at which "don't you worry a bit" is repeated in the lyrics I'm kind of hoping that it will work on my poor nerves.

My Baby's Afraid Of Sharks

Because on top of being afraid of anything that resembles mathematics, I also am afraid of sharks.
And many other things too, which are mostly all included of the lyrics of the song.
So yeah, perfect fit for me.

Speaking of being afraid of things, I'm gonna log off now.
I have to go hide somewhere and cry my eyes out and pray that if I wish it hard enough, I won't have to pass that exam.
Pray for me that it works - or that I ace the exam, I'd be fine with that too.

x, K.