Fanning myself on the dancefloor because hot chicks don't sweat

...and other friday night (and saturday and sunday) fever revelations.

- It really is a small world after all.

- Arno is chanson crunque. L'il Jon, 30 years older and a lot more (Belgian) beer, but the same bellow.

- The combination of excessive eating, below-average wine and a too-early move to (and on?) the dancefloor leads to stomachache but also to strange visions of a symphony orchestra with a big beat (and that doesn't sound kitsch).

- It's one thing when musicians make political statements from the stage, quite another when presenters tack their own random agenda onto a performance. Celebrations for Flanders's national day (11th july) have begun, which is apparently an excuse to play the "Vlaamse Leeuw" (Flemish Lion) and speechify. I turned my back to the stage in silent protest during the song (I would have done the same had it been "La Marseillaise"). The speech could just have been ye olde "Flanders First!" blabber (let each community (Wallonia & Flanders) find its own solutions to its own problems), had it not been directly challenged by singer Stef Bos's Dutchness and his wide-ranging (South Africa, Spain, America, North Africa...) influences and inspirations.

- Venus, baby!

- Playing songs live exactly like you recorded them is pretty boring.

- If you're going to put hundreds of dancing people into a room, make sure there's some kind of ventilation system in place.

- What happened to lounging around and doing nothing on week-ends? I almost miss it.